








COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 


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36^7 



SWALLOW 


BY THE SAME AUTHOR 


^JHE WIZARD 
JOAN HASTE 
.HEART OF THE WORLD 
" /NAda THE LILY 

/the people of the mist 

/ MONTEZUMA’S DAUGHTER 

CETEWAYO AND HIS WHITE NEIGHBOURS 
DAWN 

THE WITCH’S HEAD 
/ KING SOLOMON’S MINES 
/ASHE 
'/ JESS 

ALLAN QUATERMA1N 
MAIWA’S REVENGE 
MR. MEESON’S WILL 
COLONEL QUARITCH, V. C. 

CLEOPATRA 
ALLAN’S WIFE 
BEATRICE 
ERIC BRIGHTEYES 

(In collaboration with Andrew Lang) 

THE WORLD’S DESIRE 


SWALLOW 



H. EIDER HAGGARD 


AUTHOR OF “ SHE,” “ KING SOLOMON’S MINES,” “ JOAN HaSTE,” 
“THE WIZARD,” “HEART OF THE WORLD,” ETC. 

» 


> > 
) ) > 



NEW YORK 

LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO. 

LONDON AND BOMBAY 

1898 


2nd COPY, 



COPIES RECEIVED 





801 9 

Copyright, 1898, by 
H. RIDER HAGGARD' 


All rights reserved 



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Press of J. J. Little & Co* 
Astor Place, New York 


* 



CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 


I. 

Why Vrouw Botmar Tells Her Tale 


1 

II. 

How Suzanne Found Ralph Kenzie . 


9 

III. 

The Story of the Shipwreck .... 


18 

IV. 

The Shadow of the Englishman 


27 

V. 

A Love Scene and a Quarrel . . 


87 

VI. 

The Coming of the Englishmen 


47 

VII. 

The Sin of Vrouw Botmar .... 


56 

VIII. 

The Wisdom of Suzanne . 


64 

IX. 

How Suzanne Saved Sihamba . 


73 

X. 

The Oath of Sihamba 


83 

XI. 

A Fight and a Shot 


91 

XII. 

What the Cow Showed Zinti .... 


103 

XIII. 

The Schimmel’s First Race .... 


113 

XIV. 

The .Wedding 


126 

XV. 

Ralph Returns into the Sea .... 


135 

XVI. 

How Ralph Came Back to the Stead 


144 

XVII. 

The Hidden Krantz 


156 

XVIII. 

What Passed in the Hut 


163 

XIX. 

How THE SCHIMMEL CROSSED THE RED WATER . 


174 

XX. 

The Omen of the White Swallow 


183 


VI 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER PAGE 

XXI. The Vision of Ralph and Suzanne . . . 192 

XXII. How Suzanne Became a Chieftainess . . . 203 

XXIII. The War of the Clean Spear .... 212 

XXIV. The Madness of Ralph Kenzie ... 223 

XXV. The Great Trek 232 

XXVI. How Gaasha Brought Good Luck .... 243 

XXVII. Swat Piet Sets a Snare 252 

XXVIII. The Coming of the Impi 262 

XXIX. Thirst 271 

XXX. Sihamba Prevails 280 

XXXI. Sihamba’s Farewell 289 

XXXII. The Pass of the Quathlamba .... 298 

XXXIII. Ralph Finds the Dream Mountain . . . 307 

XXXIV. The Avenger of Blood 317 

XXXV. The Schimmel’s Last Race .... 328 


SWALLOW 


CHAPTER I 

WHY VROUW BOTMAR TELLS HER TALE 

It is a strange thing that I, an old Boer vrouw, should 
even think of beginning to write a hook when there are 
snch numbers already in the world, most of them worth- 
less, and many of the rest a scandal and offence in the face 
of the Lord. Notably is this so in the case of those called 
novels, which are stiff as mealie-pap with lies that fill the 
heads of silly girls with vain imaginings, causing them to 
neglect their household duties and to look out of the cor- 
ners of their eyes at young men of whom theil elders do 
not approve. In truth, my mother and those whom I 
knew in my youth, fifty years ago, when women were good 
and worthy and never had a thought beyond their hus- 
bands and their children, would laugh aloud could any 
whisper in their dead ears that Suzanne Naude was about 
to write a book. Well might they laugh indeed, seeing 
that to this hour the most that I can do with pen and ink 
is to sign my own name very large, in this matter alone, 
not being the equal of my husband Jan, who, before he 
became paralysed, had so much learning that he could 

1 


2 


read aloud from the Bible, leaving out the names and long 
words. 

No, no, I am not going to write, it is my great-grand- 
daughter, who is named Suzanne after me, who writes. 
And who that had not seen her at the work could even 
guess how she does it? I tell you that she has brought up 
from Durban a machine about the size of a pumpkin that 
goes tap-tap- — like a woodpecker, and prints as it taps. 
Now, my husband Jan was always very fond of music in 
his youth, and when first the girl began to tap upon this 
strange instrument, he, being almost blind and not able to 
see it, thought that she was playing on a spinet such as 
stood in my grandfather’s house away in the Old Colony. 
The noise pleases him and sends him to sleep, reminding 
him of the days when he courted me and I used to strum 
upon that spinet with one finger, and therefore I am dic- 
tating this history that he may have plenty of it, and that 
Suzanne may he kept out of mischief. 

There, that is my joke. Still there is truth in it, for 
Jan Botmar, my husband, he who was the strongest man 
among the fathers of the great trek of 1836, when, like 
the Israelites of old, we -escaped from the English, our mas- 
ters, into the wilderness, crouches in the corner yonder a 
crippled giant with but one sense left to him, his hearing, 
and a little power of wandering speech. It is strange to 
look at him, his white hair hanging upon his shoulders, 
his eyes glazed, his chin sunk upon his breast, his great 
hands knotted and helpless, and to remember that at the 
battle of Vechtkop, when Moselikatse sent his regiments to 
crush us, I saw those same hands of his seize the only two 
Zulus who broke away into our laager and shake and dash 
them together till they were dead. 

Well, well, who am I. that I should talk? For has not 


3 


the dropsy got hold of my legs, and did not that doctor, 
who, though an Englishman, is no fool, tell me hut yester- 
day that it was creeping up towards my heart? We are 
old and soon must die, for such is the will of God. Let us 
then thank God that it is our lot to pass thus easily and in 
age, and not to have perished in our youth, as did so many 
of our companions, the Voortrekkers, they and their chil- 
dren together, by the spear of the savage, or by starvation 
and fever and wild beasts in the wilderness. Ah! I think 
of them often, and in my sleep, which has grown light of 
late, I see them often, and hear those voices that none but 
I would know to-day. I think of them and I see them, 
and since Suzanne has the skill to set down my words, a 
desire comes upon me to tell of them and their deeds be- 
fore God takes me by the hand and I am borne through 
the darkness by the wings of God. 

Also there is another reason. The girl, Suzanne Kenzie, 
my great-granddaughter, who writes this, alone is left of 
my blood, since her father and grandfather, who was our 
adopted sou, and the husband of our only child, fell in 
the Zulu war fighting with the English against Cetywayo. 
Now- many have heard the strange story of Ralph Kenzie, 
the English castaway, and of how he was found by our 
daughter Suzanne. Many have heard also the still stranger 
stor} 7- of how this child of ours, Suzanne, in her need, was 
sheltered by savages, and for more than two years lived 
with Sihamba, the little witch doctress and ruler of the 
Tribe of the Mountains, till Ralph, her husband, who 
loved her, sought her out and rescued her, that by the 
mercy of the Lord during all this time had suffered neither 
harm nor violence. Yes, many have heard of these things, 
for in bygone years there was much talk of them as of 
events out of nature and marvellous, but few have heard 


4 


them right. Therefore before I go, I, who remember and 
know them all, would set them down that they may be 
a record for ever among my descendants and the descend- 
ants of Ralph Kenzie, my foster-son, who, having been 
brought up amongst us Boers, was the best and bravest 
Englishman that ever lived in Africa. 

And now I will tell of the finding of Ralph Kenzie 
many years ago. 

To begin at the beginning, my husband, J an Botmar, is 
one of the wull-known Boer family of that name, the most 
of whom lived in the Graafreinet district in the Old Colony 
till some of them trekked into the Transkei, when I was 
still a young girl, to be as far as they could from the heart 
of the British power. Nor did they trek for a little reason. 
Listen and judge. 

One of the Bezuidenhouts, Frederick, was accused of 
treating some black slave of his cruelly, and a body of the 
accursed Pandours, the Hottentots whom the English had 
made into a regiment, were sent to arrest him. He would 
not suffer that these black creatures should lay hands upon 
a Boer so he fled to a cave and fought there till he was 
shot dead. Over his open grave his brethren and friends 
swore to take vengeance for his murder, and fifty of them 
raised an insurrection. They were pursued by the Pan- 
dours and by burghers more law abiding or more cautious, 
till Jan Bezuidenhout, the brother of Frederick, was shot 
also fighting to the last while his wife and little son loaded 
the rifles. Then the rest were captured and put upon 
their trial, and to the rage and horror of all their country- 
men the brutal British governor of that day, who was 
named Somerset, ordered five of them to be hanged, among 


5 

them my husband’s father and uncle. Petitions for mercy 
availed nothing, and these five were tied to a beam like 
Kaffir dogs yonder at Slagter’s Nek, they who had shed 
the blood of no man. Yes, yes, it is true, for Jan, my 
man, saw it; he saw his father and his uncle hanged like 
dogs. When they pushed them from the beam four of 
the ropes broke, perhaps they had been tampered with, I 
know not, hut still the devils who murdered them would 
show no mercy. Jan ran to his father and cast his arms 
about him, but they tore him away. 

“ Do not forget, my son,” he gasped as he lay there on 
the ground with the broken rope about his neck, nor did 
J an ever forget. 

It was after this that the Botmars trekked into the 
Transkei, and with them some other families amongst 
whom were the Naudes, my parents. Here in the Transkei 
the widow Botmar and my father were near neighbours, 
their steads being at a distance from each other of about 
three hours upon horseback, or something over twenty 
miles. In those days, I may say it without shame now, I 
was the prettiest girl in the Transkei, a great deal prettier 
than my granddaughter Suzanne there, although some 
think well of her looks, but not so well as she thinks of 
them herself, for that would he impossible. I have been 
told that I have noble French blood in my veins, though 
I care little for this, being quite content to he one of the 
Boers who are all of noble blood. At least I believe that 
my great-grandfather was a French Huguenot Count who 
fled from his country to escape massacre because of his 
religion. From him and his wife Suzanne so it is said, 
we women of the Naudes get our beauty, for we have al- 
ways been beautiful, hut the loveliest of the race by far was 
my daughter Suzanne who married the Englishman, Ealph 


6 


Kenzie, from which time our good looks have begun to fall 
off, though it is true that he was no ill-favoured man. 

Whatever the cause, in my youth, I was not like the 
other Boer girls, who for the most part are stout, heavy, 
and slow of speech, even before they are married, nor did 
I need to wear a kapje to keep a pink and white face from 
burning in the sun. I was not tall, hut my figure was 
rounded and my movements were as quick as my tongue. 
Also I had brown hair that curled and brown eyes beneath 
it, and full red lips, which all the young men of that dis- 
trict — and there w^ere six of them who can he counted — 
would have given their best horse to kiss with the saddle 
and bridle thrown in. But remember this, Suzanne, I 
never suffered them to do so, for in my time girls knew 
better what was right. 

Well, among all the suitors I favoured Jan Botmar, the 
old cripple who sits yonder, though in those days he was 
no cripple hut the properest man a girl could wish to see. 
My father was against such a match, for he had the old 
French pride of race in him, and thought little of the Bot- 
mar family, as though we werejiot all the children of one 
God — except the black Kaffirs, who are the children of the 
devil. But in the end he gave way, for Jan was well-to-do, 
so after we had “ oppsitted 99 together several times accord- 
ing to our customs, and burnt many very long candles,* 
we were married and went to live on a farm of our own 
at a distance. For my part I have never regretter it, al- 
though doubtless I might have done much better for my- 

* It is customary among the Boers for the suitor to sit up alone at 
night with the object of his choice. Should the lady favour him, she 
lights long candles, but if he does not please her she produces ‘ ends,’ 
signifying thereby that she prefers his room to his company. 

Author 


7 


self; and if Jan did, he has been wise enough not to say so 
to me. In this country most of ns women must choose a 
man to look after, it is a burden that Heaven lays upon 
us, so one may as well choose him one fancies, and Jan 
was my fancy though why he should have been I am sure 
I do not know. Well, if he had any wits left he would 
speak up and tell what a blessing I have been to him, and 
how often my good sense has supplied the lack of his, and 
how I forgave him, yes, and helped him out of the scrape 
when he made a fool of himself with — but I will not write 
of that, for it makes me angry, and as likely as not I should 
throw something at him before I had finished, which he 
would not understand. 

No, no; I do not regret it, and, what is more, when my 
man dies I shall not be long behind him. Ah! they may 
talk, all these wise young people; but, after all, what is 
there better for a woman than to love some man, the good 
and the bad of him together, to bear his children and to 
share his sorrows, and to try to make him a little better 
and a little less selfish and unfortunate than he would have 
been alone. Pom* men, without us women their lot would 
be hard indeed, and how they will get on in heaven, where 
they are not allowed to marry, is more than I can guess. 

So we married, and within a year our daughter was born 
and christened by the family name of Suzanne after me, 
though almost from her cradle the Kaffirs called her 
“ Swallow,” I am not sure why. She was a very beautiful 
child from the first, and she was the only one, for I was ill 
at her birth and never had any more children. The other 
women with their coveys of eight and ten and twelve used 
to condole with me about this, and get a sharp answer for 
their pains. I had one which always shut their mouths, 
but I won’t ask the girl here to set it down. An only 


8 


daughter was enough for me, I said, and if it wasn’t I 
shouldn’t have told them so, for the truth is that it is best 
to take these things as we find them, and whether it he one 
or ten, to declare that that is just as we would wish it. I 
know that when we were on the great trek and I saw the 
“ kinderchies ” of others dying of starvation, or massacred 
in dozens by the Kaffir devils, ah! then I was glad that we 
had no more children. Heartaches enough my ewe lamb 
Suzanne gave me during those bitter years when she was 
lost, and when she died, having lived out her life just be- 
fore her husband, Ralph Kenzie, went on commando with 
his son to the Zulu war, whither her death drove him, ah! 
then it ached for the last time. When next my heart 
aches it shall be with joy to find them both in Heaven. 


CHAPTEK II 


HOW SUZANNE FOUND RALPH KENZIE 

Our farm where we lived in the Transkei was not very 
far from the ocean; indeed, any one seated on the kopje 
at the back of the house, from the very top of which 
bubbles a spring of fresh water, can see the great rollers 
striking the straight cliffs of the shore and spouting into 
the air in clouds of white foam. Even in warm weather 
they spout thus, but when the south-easterly gales blow 
then the sight and the sound of them are terrible as they 
rush in from the black water one after another for days 
and nights together. Then the cliffs shiver beneath their 
blows, and the spray flies up as though it were driven from 
the nostrils of a thousand whales, and it swept inland in 
clouds, turning the grass and the leaves of the trees black 
in its breath. Woe to the ship that is caught in those 
breakers and ground against those rocks, for soon nothing 
is left of it save scattered timbers shivered as though by 
lightning. 

One winter — it was when Suzanne was seven years old 
— such a south-east gale as this blew for four days, and on 
a certain evening after the wind had fallen, having finished 
my household work, I went to the top of the kopje to rest 
and look at the sea, which was still raging terribly, taking 
with me Suzanne. I had been sitting there ten minutes 

9 


10 


or more when Jan, my husband, joined me, and I won- 
dered why he had come, for he, as brave a man as ever 
lived in all other things, was greatly afraid of the sea, and, 
indeed, of any water. So afraid was he that he did not 
like the sight of it in its anger, and that he would wake 
at nights at the sound of a storm — yes, he whom I have 
seen sleep through the trumpetings of frightened ele- 
phants and the shouting of a Zulu impi. 

“ You think that sight fine, wife,” he said pointing to 
the spouting foam; “ but I call it the ugliest in the world. 
Almighty! it turns my blood cold to look at it and to think 
that Christian men, ay, and women and children too, may 
be pounding to pulp in those breakers.” 

“ Without doubt the death is as good as another,” I 
answered; “not that I would choose it, for I wish to die 
in my bed with the predicant saying prayers over me, and 
my husband weeping — or pretending to — at the foot of 
it.” 

“ Choose it! ” he said, “ I had sooner be speared by sav- 
ages or hanged by the English Government as my father 
was.” 

“What makes you think of death in the sea, Jan?” I 
asked. 

“ Nothing, wife, nothing; but there is that old fool of 
a Pondo witch-doctress down by the cattle kraal, and I 
heard her telling a story as I went by to look at the ox 
that the snake bit yesterday.” 

“ What was the story? ” 

“ Oh! a short one; she said she had it from the coast 
Kaffirs — that far away, up towards the mouth of the Um- 
zimbubu, when the moon was young, great guns had been 
heard fired one after the other, minute by minute, and that 
then a ship was seen, a tall ship with three masts and 


11 


many ‘eyes’ in it — I suppose she meant portholes with 
the light shining through them — drifting on to the coast 
before the wind, for a storm was raging, while streaks of 
fire like red and blue lightnings rushed up from her 
decks.” 

“ Well, and then? ” 

“ And then, nothing. Almighty! that is all the tale. 
Those waves which you love to watch can tell the rest.” 

“ Most like it is some Kaffir lie, husband.” 

“ May be, but amongst these people news travels faster 
than a good horse, and before now there have been wrecks 
upon this coast. Child, put down that gun. Do you 
want to shoot your mother? 'Have I not told you that 
you must never touch a gun ? ” and he pointed to Suzanne, 
who had picked up her father’s roer — for in those days, 
when we lived among so many Kaffirs, every man went 
armed — and was playing at soldiers with it. 

“ I was shooting buck and Kaffirs, papa,” she said, obey- 
ing him with a pout. 

“ Shooting Kaffirs, were you? Well, there will be a 
good deal of that to do before all is finished in this land, 
little one. But it is not work for girls; you should have 
been a boy, Suzanne.” 

“I can’t; I am a girl,” she answered; “and I haven’t 
any brothers like other girls. Why haven’t I any 
brothers? ” 

Jan shrugged his shoulders and looked at me. 

“ Won’t the sea bring me a brother? ” went on the child, 
for she had been told that little children came out of the 
sea. 

“Perhaps, if you look for one very hard,” I answered 
with a sigh, little knowing what fruit would spring from 
this seed of a child’s talk. 


12 


On the morrow there was a great to do about the place, 
for the black girl whose business it was to look after 
Suzanne came in at breakfast time and said that she had 
lost the child. It seemed that they had gone down to the 
shore in the early morning to gather big shells such as are 
washed up there after a heavy storm, and that Suzanne 
had taken with her a hag made of spring-buck hide in 
which to carry them. Well, the black girl sat down under 
the shadow of a rock, leaving Suzanne to wander to and 
fro looking for the shells, and not for an hour or more did 
she get up to find her. Then she searched in vain, for 
the spoor of the child’s feet led from the sand between the 
rocks to the pebbly shore above which was covered with 
tough sea grasses, and there was lost. How at the girl’s 
story I was frightened, and Jan was both frightened and 
so angry that he would have tied her up and flogged her 
if he had found time. But of this there was none to lose, 
so taking with him such Kaffirs as he could find he set off 
for the seashore to hunt for Suzanne. It was near sunset 
when he returned, and I, who was watching from the 
stoep, saw with a shiver of fear that he was alone. 

“Wife,” he said in a hollow voice, “the child is lost. 
We have searched far and wide and can find no trace of 
her. Make food ready to put in my saddle-bags, for should 
we discover her to-night or to-morrow, she will be 
starving.” 

“Be comforted,” I said, “at least she will not starve, 
for the cook girl tells me that before Suzanne set out this 
morning she begged of her a bottle of milk and with it 
some biltong and meal cakes and put them in her bag.” 

“ It is strange,” he answered. “ What could the little 
maid want with these unless she was minded to make a 
journey? ” 


13 


“ At times it comes into the thoughts of children to play 
truant, husband.” 

“ Yes, yes, that is so, hut pray God that we may find her 
before the moon sets.” 

Then while I filled the saddle-hags Jan swallowed some 
meat, and a fresh horse having been brought he kissed me 
and rode away in the twilight. 

Oh! what hours were those that followed! All night 
long I sat there on the stoep, though the wind chilled me 
and the dew wet my clothes, watching and praying as, I 
think, I never prayed before. This I knew well— that our 
Suzanne, our only child, the light and joy of our home, 
was in danger so great that the Lord alone could save her. 
The country where we loved was lonely, savagtes still roamed 
about it who hated the white man, and might steal or kill 
her; also it was full of leopards, hyenas, and other beasts 
of prey which would devour her. Worst of all, the tides 
on the coast were swift and treacherous, and it well might 
happen that if she was wandering amongst the great rocks 
the sea would come in and drown her. Indeed, again and 
again it seemed to me that I could hear her death-cry in 
the sob of the wind. 

At length the dawn broke, and with it came Jan. One 
glance at his face was enough for me. “ She is not dead? ” 
I gasped. 

"I know not,” he answered, “we have found nothing 
of her. Give me brandy and another horse, for the sun 
rises, and I return to the search. The tide is down, per- 
haps we shall discover her among the rocks,” and he 
groaned and entered the house with me. 

“ Kneel down and let us pray, husband,” I said, and we 
knelt down weeping and prayed aloud to our God who, 
seated in the Heavens, yet sees and knows the needs and 


14 


griefs of His servants upon the earth, prayed that He 
would pity onr agony and give ns back onr only child. 
Nor, blessed be His name, did we pray vainly, for pres- 
ently, while we still knelt, we heard the voice of that girl 
who had lost Snzanne, and who all night long had lain 
sobbing in the garden grounds, calling to ns in wild ac- 
cents to come forth and see. Then we rushed out, hope 
burning up suddenly in our hearts like a fire in dry grass. 

In front of the house and not more than thirty paces 
from it, was the crest of a little wave of land upon which 
at this moment the rays of the rising sun struck brightly. 
There, yes, there full in the glow of them stood the child 
Suzanne, wet, disarrayed, her hair hanging about her face, 
but unharmed and smiling, and leaning on her shoulder 
another child, a white boy, somewhat taller and older than 
herself. With a cry of joy we rushed towards her, and reach- 
ing her the first, for my feet were the swiftest, I snatched 
her to my breast and kissed her, whereon the boy fell 
down, for it seemed that his foot was hurt and he could 
not stand alone. 

“ In the name of Heaven, what is the meaning of this ? 99 
gasped Jan. 

“What should it mean,” answered the little maid 
proudly, “ save that I went to look for the brother whom 
you said I might find by the sea if I searched hard enough, 
and I found him, though I do not understand his words 
or he mine. Come, brother, let me help you up, for this 
is our home, and here are our father and mother.” 

Then, filled with wonder, we carried the children into 
the house, and took their wet clothes off them. It was I 
who undressed the boy, and noted that though his gar- 
ments were in rags and foul, yet they were of a finer stuff 
than any that I had seen, and that his linen, which was 


15 


soft as silk, was market" with the letters R. M. Also I 
noted other things: namely, that so swollen were his little 
feet that the hoots must he cut off them, and that he was 
well-nigh dead of starvation, for his bones almost pierced 
his milk-white skin. 

Well, we cleaned him, and having wrapped him in 
blankets and soft-tanned hides, I fed him with broth a 
spoonful at a time, for had I let him eat all he would, he 
was so famished that I feared lest he should kill himself. 
After he was somewhat satisfied, sad memories seemed to 
come hack to him, for he cried and spoke in English, re- 
peating the word “ Mother,” which I knew, again and 
again, till presently he dropped off to sleep, and for many 
hours slept without waking. Then, little by little, I drew 
all the tale from Suzanne. 

It would seem that the child, who was very venturesome 
and full of imaginings, had dreamed a dream in her bed 
on the night of the day when she played with the gun and 
Jan and I had spoken together of the sea. She dreamed 
that in a certain kloof, an hour’s ride and more away from 
the stead, she heard the voice of a child praying, and that 
although he prayed in a tongue unknown to her, she under- 
stood the words, which were: “ 0 Father, my mother is 
dead, send someone to help me, for I am starving.” More- 
over, looking round her in her dream, though she could 
not see the child from whom the voice came, yet she 
knew the kloof, for as it chanced she had been there twice, 
once with me to gather white lilies for the funeral of a 
neighbour who had died, and once with her father, who 
was searching for a lost ox. Now Suzanne, having lived 
so much with her elders, was very quick, and she was sure 
when she woke in the morning that if she said anything 
about her dream we should laugh at her and should not 


16 


allow her to go to the place of which she had dreamt. 
Therefore it was that she made the plan of seeking for the 
shells npon the seashore, and of slipping away from the 
woman who was with her, and therefore also she begged 
the milk and the biltong. 

Now before I go farther I would ask — what was this 
dream of Suzanne’s? Did she invent it after the things 
to which it pointed had come to pass, or was it verily a 
vision sent by God to the pure heart of a little child, as 
aforetime He sent a vision to the heart of the infant 
Stmuel? Let each solve the riddle as he will, only, if it 
were nothing hut an imagination, why did she take the 
milk and food? Because we had been talking on that 
evening of her finding a brother by the sea, you may 
answer. Well, perhaps so, let each solve the riddle as he will. 

When Suzanne escaped from her nurse she struck in- 
land, and thus it happened that her feet left no spoor upon 
the hard, dry veldt. Soon she found that the kloof she 
sought was further off than she thought for, or, perhaps, 
she lost her way to it, for the hillsides are scarred with 
such kloofs, and it might well chance that a child would 
mistake one for the other. Still she went on, though she 
grew frightened in the lonely wilderness, where great 
bucks sprang up at her feet and baboons barked at her as 
they clambered from rock to rock. On she went, stopping 
only once or twice to drink a little of the milk and eat 
some food, till, towards sunset, she found the kloof of 
which she had dreamed. For a while she wandered about 
in it, following the banks of a stream, till at length, as she 
passed a dense clump of mimosa bushes, she heard the 
faint sound of a child’s voice — the very voice of her dream. 
Now she stopped, and turning to the right, pushed her way 
through the mimosas, and there beyond them was a dell. 


17 


and in the centre of the dell a large flat rock, and on the 
rock a hoy praying, the rays of the setting sun shining in 
his golden, tangled hair. She went to the child and spoke, 
to him, but he could not understand our tongue, nor could 
she understand his. Then she drew out what was left of 
the bottle of milk and some meal cakes and gave them to 
him, and he ate and drank greedily. 

By this time the sun was down, and as they did not dare 
to move in the dark, children sat together on the rock, 
clasped in each other’s arms for warmth, and as they sat 
they saw yellow eyes staring at them through the gloom, 
and heard strange snoring sounds, and were afraid. At 
length the moon rose, and in its first rays they perceived 
standing and" walking within a few paces of them three 
tigers, as we call leopards, two of them big. and one half- 
grown. But the tigers did them no harm, for God forbade 
them; they only looked at them a little and then slipped 
away, purring as they went. 

Now 'Suzanne rose, and taking the boy by the hand she 
began to lead him homeward, very slowly, since he was 
footsore and exhausted, and for the last half of the way 
could only walk resting upon her shoulder. Still through 
the long night they crawled forward, for the kopje at the 
back of our stead was a guide to Suzanne, stopping from 
time to time to rest a while, till at the breaking of the 
dawn with their last strength they came to the house, as 
has been told. 

Well it was that they did so, for it seems that the search- 
ers had already sought them in the very kloof where they 
were hidden, without seeing anything of them behind the 
thick screen of the mimosas, and having once sought 
doubtless they would have returned there no more, for the 
hills are wide and the kloofs of them many. 


CHAPTER III 


THE STORY OF THE SHIPWRECK 

“ What shall we do with this boy whom Suzanne has 
brought to us, wife?” asked Jan of me that day while 
both the children lay asleep. 

“ Do with him, husband,” I answered, “ we shall keep 
him; he is the Lord’s gift.” 

“ He is English, and I hate the English,” said J an look- 
ing down. 

“ English or Dutch, husband, he is of noble blood, and 
the Lord’s gift, and to turn him away would be to turn 
away our luck.” 

“ But how if his people come to seek him? ” 

“ When they come we will talk of it, but I do not think 
that they will come; I think that the sea has swallowed 
them all.” 

After that Jan said no more of this matter for many 
years; indeed I believe that from the first he desired to 
keep the child, he who was sonless. 

How while the boy lay asleep Jan mounted his horse and 
rode for two honrs to the stead of our neighbour, the Heer 
van Yooren. This Yan Yooren was a very rich man, by 
far the richest of ns outlying Boers, and he had come to 
live in these wilds because of some bad act that he had 
done; I think that it was the shooting of a coloured person 

18 


19 


when he was angry. He was a strange man and much 
feared, sullen in countenance, and silent by nature. It 
was said that his grandmother was a chieftainess among 
the red Kaffirs, hut if so, the blood showed more in his 
son and only child than in himself. Of this son, who in 
after years was named Swart Piet, and his evil doings I 
shall have to tell later in my story, hut even then his dark 
face and savage temper had earned for him the name of 
“ the little Kaffir.” 

Now the wife of the Heer van Yooren was dead, and he 
had a tutor for his hoy Piet, a poor Hollander body who 
could speak English. That man knew figures also, for once, 
when thinking that I should he too clever for him, I asked 
him how often the wheel of our big waggon would turn 
round travelling between our farm and Capetown Castle, 
he took a rule and measured the wheel, then having set 
down some figures on a bit of paper, and worked at them 
for a while, he told me the answer. Whether it was right 
or wrong I did not know, and said so, whereon the poor 
creature grew angry, and lied in his anger, for he swore 
that he could tell me how often the wheel would turn in 
travelling from the earth to the sun or moon, and also 
how far we were from those great lamps, a thing that is 
known to God only, Who made them for our comfort. It 
is little wonder, therefore, that with such unholy teaching 
Swart Piet grew up so bad. 

Well, Jan went to beg the loan of this tutor, thinking 
that he would be able to understand what the English boy 
said, and in due course the creature came in a pair of blue 
spectacles and riding on a mule, for he dared not trust 
himself to a horse. Afterwards, when the child woke up 
from his long sleep, and had been fed and dressed, the 
tutor spoke with him in that ugly English tongue of which 


20 


I could never even bear the sound, and this was the story 
that he drew from him. 

It seems that the hoy, who gave his name as Ralph 
Kenzie, though I believe that really it was Ralph Macken- 
zie, was travelling with his father and mother and many 
others from a country called India, which is one of those 
places that the English have stolen in different parts of 
the world, as they stole the Cape and Natal and all the 
rest. They travelled for a long while in a big ship, for 
India is a great way off, till, when they were near this 
coast, a storm sprang up, and after the wind had blown 
for two days they were driven on rocks a hundred miles or 
more away from our stead. 1S0 fierce was the sea and so 
quickly did the ship break to pieces that only one boat 
was got out, which, except for a crew of six men, was filled 
with women and children. In this boat the boy Ralph 
and his mother were given a place, but his father did not 
come, although the captain begged him, for he was a man 
of importance, whose life was of more value than those of 
common people. But he refused, for he said that he 
would stop and share the fate of the other men, which 
shows that this English lord, for I think he was a lord, 
had a high spirit. So he kissed his wife and child and 
blessed them, and the boat was lowered to the sea, but 
before another could be got ready the great ship slipped 
back from the rock upon which she hung and sank (for 
this we heard afterwards from some Kaffirs who saw” it), 
and all aboard of her were drowned. May God have mercy 
upon them! 

When it was near to the shore the boat was overturned, 
and some of those in it were drowned, but Ralph and his 
mother were cast safely on the beach, and with them 
others. Then one of the men looked at a compass and 


21 


they began to walk southwards, hoping doubtless to reach 
country where white people lived. All that befell after- 
wards I cannot tell, for the poor child was too frightened 
and bewildered to remember, but it seems that the men 
were killed in a fight with natives, who, however, did not 
touch the women and children. After that the women 
and the little ones died one by one of hunger and weari- 
ness, or were taken by wild beasts, till at last none were 
left save Ralph and his mother. When they were alone 
they met a Kaffir woman, who gave them as much food 
as they could carry, and by the help of this food they 
struggled on southward for another five or six days, 
till at length one morning, after their food was done, 
Ralph woke to find his mother cold and dead besides 
him. 

When he was sure that she was dead he was much fright- 
ened, and ran away as fast as he could. All that day he 
staggered forward, till in the evening he came to the kloof, 
and being quite exhausted, knelt upon the flat stone to 
pray, as he had been taught to do, and there Suzanne 
found him. Such was the story, and so piteous it seemed 
to us that we wept as we listened, yes, even Jan wept, and 
the tutor snivelled and wiped his weak eyes. 

That it was true in the main we learned afterwards 
from the Kaffirs, a bit here and a bit there. Indeed, one 
of our own people, while searching for Suzanne, found the 
body of Ralph’s mother and buried it. He said that she 
was a tall and noble-looking lady, not much more than 
thirty years of age, but we did not dig her up again to 
look at her, as perhaps we should have done, for the Kaffir 
declared that she had nothing on her except some rags 
and two rings, a plain gold one and another of emeralds, 
with a device carved upon it, and in the pocket of her 


22 


gown a little book bound in red, that proved to be a Testa- 
ment, on the fly leaf of which was written in English, 
u Flora Gordon, the gift of her mother, Agnes J aney 
Oordon, on her confirmation,” and with it a date. 

All these things the Kaffir brought home faithfully, also 
a lock of the lady’s fair hair, which he had cut off with 
his asegai. That lock of hair labelled in writing — remem- 
ber it Suzanne, when I am gone — is in the waggon box 
w r hich stands beneath my bed. The other articles Suzanne 
here has, as is her right, for her grandfather settled them 
on her by will, and with them one thing which I forgot to 
mention. When we undressed the boy Ralph, we found 
hanging by a gold chain to his neck, where he said his 
mother placed it the night before she died, a large locket, 
also of gold. This locket contained three little pictures 
painted on ivory, one in each half of it and one with a 
plain gold back on a hinge between them. That to the 
right was of a handsome man in uniform, who, Ralph told 
me, was his father (and indeed he left all this in writing, 
together with his will); that to the left of a lovely lady 
in a low dress, who, he said, was his mother; that in the 
middle a portrait of the boy himself, as anyone could see, 
wdiich must have been painted not more than a year before 
we found him. This locket and the pictures my great- 
granddaughter Suzanne has also. 

Kow, as we have said, we let that unhappy lady lie in 
her rude grave yonder by the sea, but my husband took 
men and built a cairn of stones over it and a strong wall 
about it, and there it stands to this day, for not long ago 
I met one of the folk from the Old Colony who had seen 
it, and who told me that the people that live in those parts 
now reverence the spot, knowing its story. Also, when 
some months afterwards a minister came to visit us, we 


23 


led him to the place and he read the Burial Service over 
the lady's bones, so that she did not lack for Christian 
burial. 

Well, this wreck made a great stir, for many were 
drowned in it, and the English Government sent a ship 
of war to visit the place where it happened, but none came 
to ask us what we knew of the matter, and, indeed, we 
never learned that the frigate had been till she was gone 
again. So it came about that the story died away, as such 
stories do in this sad world, and for many years we heard 
no more of it. 

For a while the boy Ralph was like a haunted child. At 
night, and now and again even in the daytime, he would 
be seized with terror, and sob and cry in a way that was 
piteous to behold, though not to be wondered at by any 
who knew his history. When these fits took him, strange 
as it may seem, there was but one who could calm his 
heart, and that one Suzanne. I can see them now as I 
have seen them thrice that I remember, the boy sitting up 
in his bed, a stare of agony in his eyes, and the sweat run- 
ning down his face, damping his yellow hair, and talking 
rapidly, half in English, half in Dutch, with a voice that 
at times would rise to a scream, and at times would sink 
to a whisper, of the shipwreck, of his lost parents, of the 
black Indian woman who nursed him, of the wilderness, 
the tigers, and the Kaffirs who fell on them, and many 
other things. By him sits Suzanne, a soft kaross of jackal 
skins wrapped over her nightgown, the dew of sleep still 
showing upon her childish face and in her large dark eyes. 
By him she sits, talking in some words which for us have 
little meaning, and in a voice now shrill, and now sinking 
to a croon, while with one hand she clasps his wrist, and 
with the other strokes his rbow, till the shadow passes 


24 


from his soul and, clinging close to her, he sinks back to 
sleep. 

But as the years went by these fits grew rarer till at last 
they ceased altogether, since, thanks be to God, childhood 
can forget its grief. What did not cease, however, was 
the lad’s love for Suzanne, or her love for him, which, if 
possible, was yet deeper. Brother may love sister, hnt that 
affection, however true, yet lacks something, since nature 
teaches that it can never he complete. But from the be- 
ginning — yes, even while they were children — these twain 
were brother and sister, friend and friend, lover and lover; 
and so they remained till life left them, and so they will 
remain for aye in whatever life they live. Their thought 
was one thought, their heart was one heart; in them was 
neither variableness nor shadow of turning; they were each 
of each, to each and for each, as one soul in their separate 
spirits, as one flesh in their separate bodies. I who write 
this am a very old woman, and though in many things I 
am most ignorant, I have seen much of the world and of 
the men who live in it, yet I say that never have I known 
any marvel to compare with the marvel and the beauty of 
the love between Ralph Kenzie, the castaway, and my 
sweet daughter, Suzanne. It was of heaven, not of earth; 
or, rather, like everything that is perfect, it partook both 
of earth and heaven. Yes, yes, it wandered up the moun- 
tain paths of earth to the pure heights of heaven, where 
now it dwells for ever. 

The hoy Ralph grew up fair and brave and strong, with 
keen grey eyes and a steady mouth, nor did I know any 
lad of his years who could equal him in strength and swift- 
ness of foot; for, though in youth he was not over tall, he 
was broad in the breast and had muscles that never seemed 
to tire. Now, we Boers think little of hook learning, hold- 


25 


ing, as we do, that if a man can read the Holy Word it is 
enough. Still J an and I thought as Ralph was not of our 
blood, though otherwise in all ways a son to us, that it 
was our duty to educate him as much in the fashion of his 
own people as our circumstances would allow. Therefore, 
after he had been with us some two years, when one day 
the Hollander tutor man, with the blue spectacles, of 
whom I have spoken, rode up to our house upon his mule, 
telling us that he had fled from the Van Yoorens because 
he could no longer hear to witness the things that were 
practised at their stead, we engaged him to teach Ralph 
and Suzanne. He remained with us six years, by which 
time both the children had got much learning from him; 
though how much it is not for me, who have none, to 
judge. They learnt history and reading and writing, and 
something of the English tongue, hut I need scarcely say 
that I would not suffer him to teach them to pry into the 
mystery of God’s stars, as he wished to do, for I hold that 
such lore is impious and akin to witchcraft of which I have 
seen enough from Sihamba and others. 

I asked this Hollander more particularly why he had 
fled from the Van Hoorens, but he would tell me little 
more than it was because of the wizardries practised there. 
If I might believe him, the Heer Yan Yooren made a cus- 
tom of entertaining Kaffir witch doctors and doctresses at 
his house, and of celebrating with them secret and devilish 
rites, to which his son, Swart Piet, was initiated in his 
presence. That this last story was true I have no doubt 
indeed, seeing that the events of after years prove it to 
have been so. 

Well, at last the Hollander left us to marry a rich old 
vrouw twenty years his senior, and that is all I have to say 
about him, except that if possible I disliked him more 


26 


when he walked out of the house than when he walked 
into it; though why I should have done so I do not know, 
for he was a harmless body. Perhaps it was because he 
played the flute, which I have always thought contemptible 
in a man. 


CHAPTER IV 


THE SHADOW OF THE ENGLISHMAN 

How I will pass on to the time when Ralph was nineteen 
or thereabouts, and save for the lack of hair upon his face, 
a man grown, since in our climate young people ripen 
quickly in body if not in mind. I tell of that year with 
shame and sorrow, for it was then that Jan and I com- 
mitted a great sin, for which afterwards we were punished 
heavily enough. 

At the beginning of winter Jan trekked to the nearest 
dorp some fifty miles away with a waggon load of mealies 
and of buckskins which he and Ralph had shot, purposing 
to sell them and to attend the Hachtmahl, or Feast of the 
Lord’s Supper. I was somewhat ailing just then and did 
not accompany him, nor did Suzanne, who stayed to nurse 
me, or Ralph, who was left to look after us both. 

Fourteen days later Jan returned, and from his face I 
saw at once that something had gone wrong. 

“ What is it, husband? ” 1 asked. “ Did not the mealies 
sell well? ” 

“ Yes, yes, they sold well,” he answered, “ for that fool 
of an English storekeeper bought them and the hides to- 
gether for more than their value.” 

“ Are the Kaffirs going to rise again, then? ” 

“ Ho, they are quiet for the present, though the accursed 
27 


28 


missionaries of the London Society are doing their best to 
stir them up,” and he made a sign to me to cease from 
asking questions, nor did I say any more till we had gone 
to bed and everybody else in the house was asleep. 

“ Now,” I said, “ tell me your had news, for bad news 
you have had.” 

“Wife,” he answered, “it is this. In the dorp yonder 
I met a man who had come from Port Elizabeth. He told 
me that there at the port were two Englishmen, who had 
recently arrived, a Scotch lord, and a lawyer with red hair. 
When the Englishmen heard that he was from this part 
of the country they fell into talk with him, saying that 
they came upon a strange errand. It seems that when the 
great ship was wrecked upon this coast ten years ago there 
was lost in her a certain little hoy who, if he had lived, 
would to-day have been a very rich noble in Scotland. Wife, 
you may know who that little boy was without my telling 
you his name.” 

I nodded and turned cold all over my body, for I could 
guess what was coming. 

“ Now for a long while those who were interested in him 
supposed that this lad was certainly dead with all the 
others on board that ship, but a year or more ago, how I 
know not, a rumour reached them that one male child 
who answered to his description had been saved alive and 
adopted by some Boers living in the Transkei. By this 
time the property and the title that should be his had 
descended to a cousin of the child’s, but this relation being 
a just man determined before he took them to come to 
Africa and find out the truth for himself, and there he is 
at Port Elizabeth, or rather by this time he is on his road 
to our place. Therefore it would seem that the day is at 
hand when we shall see the last of Ralph.” 


29 


“ Never! ” I said, “ he is a son to ns and more than a 
son, and I will not give him up.” 

“ Then they will take him, wife. Yes, even if he does 
not wish it, for he is a minor and they are armed with 
authority.” 

“Oh!” I cried, “it would break my heart, and, Jan, 
there is another heart that would break also,” and I 
pointed towards the chamber where Suzanne slept. 

He nodded, for none could live with them and not know 
that his youth and maiden loved each other dearly. 

“It would break your heart,” he answered, “and her 
heart, yes, and my own would he none the better for the 
wrench; yet how can we turn this evil from our door? ” 

“Jan,” I said, “the winter is at hand; it is time that 
you and Ralph should take the cattle to the bush veldt 
yonder, where they will lie warm and grow fat, for so large 
a herd cannot be trusted to the Kaffirs. Had you not 
better start to-morrow? If these English meddlers should 
come here I will talk with them. Did Suzanne save the 
boy for them? Did we rear him for them, although he 
was English ? Think how you will feel when he has 
crossed the ridge yonder for the last time, you who are 
sonless, and you must go about your tasks alone, must ride 
alone and hunt alone, and if need be, tight alone, except 
for his memory. Think, Jan, think.” 

“ Do not tempt me, woman,” he whispered back in a 
hoarse voice, for Ralph and he were more to each other 
than any father and son that I have known, since they 
were also the dearest of friends. “Do not tempt me,” he 
went on; “the lad himself must be told of this, and he 
must judge; he is young, but among us at nineteen a youth 
is a burgher grown, with a right to take up land and 
marry; he must be told, I say, and ar once.” 


SO 


“ It is good,” I said, “ let him judge; ” but -in the 
wickedness of my heart I made up my mind that I would 
find means to help his judgment, for the thought of losing 
him filled me with blind terror, and all that night I lay 
awake thinking out the matter. 

Early in the morning I rose and went on to the stoep 
where I found Suzanne drinking coffee and singing a little 
song that Ralph had taught her. I can see her now as she 
stood in her pretty-dight-fitting dress, a 'flower wet with dew 
in her girdle, swinging her kapje by its strings, while the 
first rays of the sun glistened on the waves of her brown 
and silk-like hair. She was near eighteen then, and so 
beautiful that my heart heat with pride at her loveliness, 
for never in my long life have I seen a girl of any nation 
who could compare with my daughter Suzanne in looks. 
Many women are sweet to behold in this way or in that; 
but Suzanne was beautiful every way, yes, and at all ages 
of her life; as a child, as a maiden, as a matron and as a 
woman drawing near to eld, she was always beautiful if, 
like that of the different seasons, her beauty varied. In 
shape she was straight and tall and rounded, light-footed 
as a buck, delicate in limb, wide-breasted and slender- 
necked. Her face was rich in hue as a kloof lily, and her 
eyes — ah! no antelope ever had eyes darker, tenderer, or 
more appealing than were the eyes of Suzanne. Moreover, 
she was sweet of nature, ready of wit and good-hearted — 
yes, even for the Kaffirs she had a smile. 

“You are up betimes, Suzanne,” I said when I had 
looked at her a little. 

“ Yes, mother; I rose to make Ralph his coffee, he does 
not like that the Kaffir women should boil it for him.” 

“ You mean that you do not like it,” I answered, for I 
knew that Ralph thought little of who made the coffee 


31 


that he drank, or if he did it was mine that he held to he 
the best, and not Suzanne’s, who in those days was a care- 
less girl, thinking less of household matters than she 
should have done. 

“ Did Swart Piet come here yesterday?” I asked. “I 
thought that I saw his horse as I walked hack from the 
sea.” 

“ Yes, he came.” 

“What for?” 

She shrugged her shoulders. “ Oh! mother, do you ask 
me? You know well that he is always troubling me, bring- 
ing me presents of flowers, and asking me to opsit with 
him and what not.” 

“ Then you don’t want to opsit with him? ” 

“ The candle would he short that I should burn with 
Swart Piet,” answered Suzanne, stamping her foot; “he 
is an evil man, full of dark words and ways, and I fear 
him, for I think that since his father’s death he has be- 
come worse, and the most of the company he keeps is with 
those Kaffir witch-doctors.” 

“Ah! like father, like son. The mantle of Elijah has 
fallen upon Elisha, but inside out. Well, it is what I ex- 
pected, for sin and wizardry were horn in his blood. Had 
you any words with him? ” 

“ Yes, some. I would not listen to his sweet talk, so he 
grew angry and began to threaten; but just then Ealph 
came hack and he went away, for he is afraid of Ealph.” 

“Where has Ealph gone so early?” I asked, changing 
the subject. 

“ To the far cattle-kraal to look after the oxen which 
the Kaffir bargained to break into the yoke. They are 
choosing them this morning.” 

“ So. He makes a good Boer for one of English blood, 


32 


does he not? And yet I suppose that when he becomes 
English again he will soon forget that he ever was a Boer.” 

“ When he becomes English again, mother! What do 
you mean by that saying? ” she asked quickly. 

“ I mean that like will to like, and blood to blood; also 
that there may be a nest far away which this bird that we 
have caged should fill.” 

“ A nest far away, mother? Then there is one here 
which would be left empty; in your heart and father’s, I 
mean; ” and dropping her sun-bonnet she turned pale and 
pressed her hands upon her own, adding, “ Oh! speak 
straight words to me. What do you mean by these hints ? ” 

“ I mean, Suzanne, that it is not well for any of us to 
let our love wrap itself too closely about a stranger. Ralph 
is an Englishman, not a Boer. He names me mother and 
your father, father; and you he names sister, but to us he 
is neither son nor brother. Well, a day may come when 
he learns to understand this, when he learns to understand 
also that he has other kindred, true kindred far away across 
the sea, and if those birds call, who will keep him in the 
strange nest? ” 

“ Ah! ” she echoed, all dismayed, “who will keep him 
then? ” 

“ I do not know,” I answered, “ not a foster father or 
mother. But I forgot. Say, did he take his rifle with 
him to the kraal ? ” 

“ Surely, I saw it in his hand.” 

“ Then, daughter, if you will, get on a horse and if you 
can find Ralph, tell him that I shall be very glad if he can 
shoot a small buck and bring it back with him, as I need 
fresh meat.” 

“ May I stay with him while he shoots a buck, mother? ” 

“ Yes, if you are not in his way and do not stop too long.” 


33 


Then, without more words, Suzanne left me, and pres- 
ently I saw her cantering across the veldt upon her grey 
mare that Ealph had broken for her, and wondered if she 
would find him and what luck he would have with the hunt 
that day. 

Now it seems that Suzanne found Ealph and gave him 
my message, and that they started together to look for 
buck on the strip of land which lies between the seashore 
and the foot of the hills, where sometimes the blesbok and 
springbok used to feed in thousands. But on this day 
there were none to be seen, for the dry grass had already 
been burnt off, so that there was nothing for them to eat. 

“ If mother is to get her meat to-day,” said Ealph at 
length ,“ I think that we must try the hill side for a duiker 
or a bush-buck.” 

So they turned inland and rode towards that very kloof 
where years before Suzanne had discovered the ship- 
wrecked boy. At the mouth of this kloof was a patch of 
marshy ground, where the reeds still stood thick, since 
being full of sap they had resisted the fire. 

“ That is a good place for a riet-bok,” said Ealph, “ if 
only one could beat him out of it, for the reeds are too 
tall to see to shoot in them.” 

“ It can be managed,” answered Suzanne. “ Do you go 
and stand in the neck of the kloof while I ride in the reeds 
towards you.” 

“ You might get bogged,” he said doubtfully. 

“ No, no, brother; after all this drought the pan is noth- 
ing more than spongy, and if I should get into a soft spot 
I will call out.” 

To this plan Ealph at length agreed, and having ridden 
round the pan, which was not more than fifty yards across, 
he dismounted from his horse and hid himself behind a 
3 


34 


bush in the neck of the kloof. Then Suzanne rode in 
among the reeds, shouting and singing, and beating them 
with her sjambock in order to disturb anything that 
might be hidden there. Nor was her trouble in vain, for 
suddenly, with a shrill whistle of alarm by the sound of 
which this kind of antelope may be known even in the 
dark, up sprang two riet-buck and dashed away towards 
the neck of the kloof, looking large as donkeys and red as 
lions as they vanished into the thick cover. So close were 
they to Suzanne that her mare took fright and bucked; 
but the girl was the best horsewoman in those parts, and 
kept her seat, calling the while to Ralph to make ready for 
the buck. Presently she heard a shot, and having quieted 
the mare, rode out of the reeds and galloped round the 
dry pan to find Ralph looking foolish with no riet-buck 
in sight. 

“ Have you missed them? ” she asked. 

“ No, not so bad as that, for they passed within ten yards 
of me, but the old gun hung fire. I suppose that the 
powder in the pan was a little damp, and instead of hitting 
the buck in front I caught him somewhere behind. He 
fell down, but has gone on again, so we must follow him, 
for I don’t think that he will get very far.” 

Accordingly, when Ralph had reloaded his gun, which 
took some time — for in those days we had scarcely any- 
thing but flintlocks — yes, it was with weapons like these 
that a handful of us beat the hosts of Hingaan and Moseli- 
katse — they started to follow the blood spoor up the kloof, 
which was not difficult, as the animal had bled much. 
Near to the top of the kloof the trail led them through a 
thick clump of mimosas, and there in the dell beyond they 
found the riet-buck lying dead. Riding to it they dis- 
mounted and examined it. 


85 


“ Poor beast,” said Suzanne; “ look how the tears have 
run down its face. Well, I am glad that it is dead and done 
with,” and she sighed and turned away, for Suzanne was 
a silly and tender-hearted girl who never could understand 
that the animals — yes, and the heathen Kaffirs, too — were 
given to us by the Lord for our use and comfort. 

Presently she started and said, “ Ealph, do you remem- 
ber this place? ” 

He glanced round and shook his head, for he was won- 
dering whether he would be able to lift the buck on to the 
horse without asking Suzanne to help him. 

“ Look again,” she said; “ look at that flat stone and the 
mimosa tree lying on its side near it.” 

Ealph dropped the leg of the buck and obeyed her, for 
he would always do as Suzanne bade him, and this time it 
was his turn to start. 

“ Almighty! ” he said, “ I remember now. It was here 
that you found me, Suzanne, after I was shipwrecked, and 
the tigers stared at us through the boughs of that fallen 
tree,” and he shivered a little, for the sight of the spot 
brought back to his heart some of the old terrors which 
had haunted his childhood. 

“ Yes, Ealph, it was here that I found you. I heard 
the sound of your voice as you knelt praying on that stone, 
and I followed it. God heard that prayer, Ealph.” 

“ And sent an angel to save me in the shape of a little 
maid,” he answered; adding, “ don’t blush so red, dear, for 
it is true that ever since that day, whenever I think of 
angels, I think of } r ou; and whenever I think of you I think 
of angels, which shows that you and the angels must be 
close together.” 

“ Which shows that you are a wicked and silly lad to 
talk thus to a Boer girl,” she answered, turning away with 


36 


a smile on her lips and tears in her eyes, for his words has 
pleased her mind and touched her heart. 

He looked at her and she seemed so sweet and beautiful 
as she stood thus, smiling and weeping together as the sun 
shines through summer rain, that, so he told me after- 
wards, something stirred in his breast, something soft and 
strong and new, which caused him to feel as though of a 
sudden he had left his boyhood behind him and become a 
man, aye, and as though this fresh-found manhood sought 
but one thing more from Heaven to make it perfect^ the 
living love of the fair maiden who until this liour had 
been his sister in heart though not in blood. 

“ Suzanne,” he said in a changed voice, “ the horses are 
tired; let them rest, and let us sit upon this stone and 
talk a little, for though we have never visited it for many 
years the place is lucky for you and me since it was here 
that our lives first came together.” 

How although Suzanne knew that the horses were not 
tired she did not think it needful to say him nay. 


CHAPTER V 


A LOYE SCENE AND A QUARREL 

Presently they were seated side by side upon a stone,. 
Suzanne looking straight before her, for nature warned 
her that this talk of theirs was not to be as other talks,, 
and Ralph looking at Snzanne. 

“ Suzanne,” he said at length. 

“Yes,” she answered; “what is it?” But he made no- 
answer, for though many words were bubbling in his 
brain, they choked in his throat, and would not come 
out of it. 

“ Suzanne,” he stammered again presently, and again 
she asked him what it was, and again he made no answer. 
How she laughed a little and said: 

“ Ralph, you remind me of the blue jay in the cage upon 
the stoep which knows but one word and repeats it all day 
long.” 

“ Aye,” he replied, “ it is true; I am like that jay, for the- 
word I taught it is ‘ Suzanne/ and the word my heart 
teaches me is ‘ Suzanne/ and — Suzanne I love you! ” 

Now she turned her head away and looked down and 
answered: 

“I know, Ralph, that you have always loved me since* 
we were children together, for are we not brother and 
sister? ” 


37 


38 


“ No,” he answered bluntly, “ it is not true.” 

“ Then that is had news for me,” she said, “ who till 
io-day have thought otherwise.” 

“ It is not true,” he went on, and now his words came 
last enough, “ that I am your brother or that I love you 
as a brother. We are no kin, and if I love you as a brother 
that is only one little grain of my love for you — yes, only 
as one little grain is to the whole sea-shore of sand. 
Suzanne, I love you as — as a man loves a maid — and if 
you will it, dear, all my hope is that one day you will he 
my wife,” and he ceased suddenly and stood before her 
trembling, for he had risen from the stone. 

For a few moments she covered her face with her hands, 
and when she let them fall again he saw that her beautiful 
eyes shone like the large stars at night, and that, although 
she was troubled, her trouble made her happy. 

“ Oh! Ralph,” she said at length, speaking in a voice 
that was different from any he had ever heard her use, a 
voice very rich and low and full, “ Oh! Ralph, this is new 
to me, and yet to speak the truth, it seems as old as — as 
that night when first I found you, a desolate, starving 
•child, praying upon this stone. Ralph, I do will it with 
all my heart and soul and body, and I suppose that I have 
willed it ever since I was a woman, though until this hour 
I did not uite know what it was I willed. Nay, dear, do 
not touch me, or at the least, not yet. First hear what I 
have to say, and then if you desire it, you may kiss me — if 
only in farewell.” 

“ If you will it and I will it, what more can you have to 
say?” he asked in a quick whisper, and looking at her 
with frightened eyes. 

“ This, Ralph; that our wills, who are young and un- 
learned, are not all the world, that there are other wills to 


39 


be thought of; the wills of our parents, or of mine rather^ 
and the will of God.” 

“ For the first,” he answered, “ I do not think that they 
stand in our path, for they love you and wish you to be 
happy, although it is true that I, who am but a wanderer 
picked up upon the veldt, have no fortune to offer you — 
still fortune can be won,” he added doggedly. 

“ They love you also, Ealph, nor do they care over much 
for wealth, either of them, and I am sure that they would 
not wish you to leave us to go in search of it.” 

“ As for the will of God,” he continued, “ it was the will 
of God that I should be wrecked here, and that you should 
save me here, and that the life you saved should be given 
to you. Will it not, therefore, be the will of God also that 
we, who can never be happy apart, should be happy to- 
gether and thank Him for our happiness every day till we 
die?” 

“ I trust so, Ealph; yet although I have read and seen 
little, I know that very often it has been His will that 
those who love each other should be separated by death or 
otherwise.” 

“ Do not speak of it,” he said with a groan. 

“ No, I will not speak of it, but there is one more thing 
of which I must speak. Strangely enough, only this morn- 
ing my mother was talking of you; she said that you are 
English, and that soon or late blood will call to blood and 
you will leave us. She said that your nest is not here, but 
there, far away across the sea, among those English; that 
you are a swallow that has been fledged with sparrows, and 
that one day you will find the wings of a swallow. What 
put it in her mind to speak thus, I do not know, but I do 
know, Ealph, that her words filled me with fear, and now 
I understand why I was so much afraid.” 


40 


He laughed aloud very scornfully. “ Then, Suzanne,” 
lie said, “you may banish your fears, for this I swear to 
you, before the Almighty, that whoever may be my true 
kin, were a kingdom to be offered to me among them, un- 
less you could share it, it would be refused. This I swear 
before the Almighty, and may He reject me if I forget 
the oath.” 

“ You are very young to make such promises, Ralph,” 
she answered doubtfully, “ nor do I hold them binding on 
you. At nineteen, so I am told, a lad will swear anything 
to the girl who takes his fancy.” 

“ I am young in years, Suzanne, but I grew old while 
I was yet a child, for sorrow aged me. You have heard 
my oath; let it be put to the test, and you shall learn 
whether or no I speak the truth. Do I look like one who 
-does not know his mind?” 

She glanced up at the steady, grey eyes and the stern, 
set mouth and answered, “ Ralph, you look like one who 
knows his mind, and I believe you. Pray God I may not 
be deceived, for though we are but lad and girl, if it prove 
so I tell you that I shall live my life out with a broken 
Reart.” 

“ Do not fear, Suzanne. And now I have heard what 
you had to say, and I claim your promise. If it be your 
will I will kiss you, Suzanne, but not in farewell.” 

“ Hay,” she 'answered, “ kiss me rather in greeting of 
the full and beautiful life that stretches before our feet. 
Whether the path be short or long, it will be good for us 
and ever better, but, Ralph, I think that the end will be 
best of all.” 

So he took her in his arms, and they kissed each other 
upon the lips, and, as they told me afterwards, in that em- 
brace they found some joy. Why should they not indeed, 


41 


for if anywhere upon the earth, if it he given and received 
in youth before the heart has been seared and tainted with 
bitterness and disillusion, surely in such a pledge as theirs 
true joy can be found. Yes, and they did more than this, 
for, kneeling there upon that rock where once the starving 
child had knelt in bygone years, they prayed to Him who 
had brought them together, to Him who had given them 
hearts to love with and bodies to be loved, and the immor- 
tality of Heaven wherein to garner this seed of love thus 
sown upon the earth, that He would guide them, bless 
them, and protect them through all trials, terrors, sorrows, 
and separations. As shall be seen, this indeed He did. 

Then they rose, and having, not without difficulty, lifted 
the riet-bok ram upon Ralph’s horse and made it fast 
there, as our hunters know how to do, they started home- 
wards, walking the most part of the way, for the load was 
heavy and they were in no haste, reaching the farm about 
noon. 

How I, watching them as we sat at our mid-day meal, 
grew sure that something out of the common had passed 
between them. Suzanne was very silent, and from time 
to time glanced at Ralph shyly, whereon, feeling her eyes, 
he would grow red as the sunset, and seeing his trouble, 
she would colour also, as though with the knowledge of 
some secret that made her both happy and ashamed. 

“ You were long this morning in finding a'buck, Ralph,” 
I said. 

“ Yes, mother,” he answered; “ there were none on the 
flats, for the grass is burnt off; and had not Suzanne beaten 
out a dry pan for me where the reeds were still green, I 
think that we should have found nothing. As it was 1 
shot badly, hitting the ram in the flank, so that we were 
obliged to follow it a long way before I came up with it.” 


42 


“ And where did you find it at last? ” I asked. 

“In a strange place, mother; yes, in that very spot 
where many years ago Suzanne came upon me starving 
after the shipwreck. There in the glade and by the flat 
stone on which I had lain down to die was the buck, quite- 
dead. We knew the dell again, though neither of us had 
visited it from that hour to this, and rested there awhile 
before we turned home.” 

I made no answer but sat thinking, and a silence fell on 
all of us. By this time the Kaffir girls had cleared away 
the meat and brought in coffee, which we drank while the 
men filled their pipes and lit them. I looked at Jan and 
saw that he was making up his mind to say something, for 
his honest face was troubled, and now he took up his pipe, 
and now he put it down, moving his hands restlessly till 
at length he upset the coffee over the table. “ Doubtless,” 
I thought to myself, “he means to tell the tale of the 
Englishmen who have come to seek for Ralph. Well, I 
think that he may safely tell it now.” 

Then I looked at Ralph and saw that he also was very 
ill at ease, struggling with words which he did not know 
how to utter. I noted, moreover, that Suzanne touched 
his hand with hers beneath the shelter of the table as 
though to comfort and encourage him. JsTow watching 
these two men at last I broke out laughing, and said, 
addressing them: 

“ You are like two fires of green weeds in a mealie patch, 
and I am wondering which of you will be the first to break 
into flame or whether you will both be choked by the reek 
of your own thoughts. 

My gibe, harmless though it was, stung them into 
speech, and both at once, for I have noticed however 
stupid they may be, that men never like to be laughed at. 


43 


“ I have something to say,” said each of them, as though 
with a single voice, and they paused looking at one another 
angrily. 

“ Then, son, wait till I have finished. Almighty! for 
'the last twenty minutes you have been sitting as silent as 
an ant-bear in a hole, and I tell you that it is my turn 
now; why, then, do you interrupt me?” 

“ I am very sorry, my father,” said Ralph looking much 
afraid, ior he thought that Jan was going to scold him 
about Suzanne, and his conscience being guilty caused him 
to forget that it was not possible that he should know any- 
^ thing of the matter of his love-making. 

“ That is good,” said Jan still glaring at him; “but I 
am not your father.” 

“ Then why do you call me son? ” asked Ralph. 

“Almighty! do you suppose that I sit here to answer 
riddles?” replied Jan pulling at his great heard. “Why 
do I call you son, indeed? Ah! ” he added in a different 
voice, a sorrowful voice, “ why do I when I have no right? 
Listen, my hoy, we are in sore trouble, I and your mother, 
or if she is not your mother at least she loves you as much 
as though she were, and I love you too, and you know it; 
so why do you seek to make a fool of me by asking me 
riddles?” 

Now, Ralph was about to answer, hut Suzanne held up 
her hand, and he was quiet. 

“ My son,” went on Jan with a kind of sob, “ they are 
coming to take you away from us.” 

“ They! Who? ” asked Ralph. 

“Who? The English, damn them! Yes, I say, damn 
the English and the English Government.” 

“Peace, Jan,” I broke in, “this is not a political meet- 
ing, where such talk is right and proper.” 


44 


“ The English Government is coming to take me away! ” 
exclaimed Ealph bewildered. “ What has the Govern- 
ment to do with me ? 99 

“ No,” said Jan, “ not the English Government, but two 
Scotchmen, which is mnch the same thing. I tell you that 
they are travelling to this place to take you away.” 

Now, Ealph leaned hack in his chair and stared at him, 
for he saw that it was little use to ask him questions, and 
that he must leave him to tell the tale in his own fashion. 
At last it came out. 

“ Ealph,” said my husband, “ you know that you are 
not of our blood; we found you cast up on the beach like 
a storm-fish and took you in, and you grew dear to us; yes, 
although you are English or Scotch, which is worse, for if 
the English bully us the Scotch bully us and cheat us into 
the bargain. Well, your parents were drowned, and have 
now been in Heaven for a long time, hut I am sorry to say 
that all your relations were not drowned with them. At 
first, however, they took no trouble to hunt for you when 
we should have been glad enough to give you up.” 

“ No,” broke in Suzanne and I with one voice, and I 
added, “ how do you dare to tell such lies in the face of 
the Lord, Jan? ” 

“ When it would not have been so had to give you 

up,” he went on correcting himself. “ But now it seems 
that had you lived you would have inherited estates, or 
titles, or both.” 

“ Is the hoy dead then? ” I asked. 

“ Be silent, wife, I mean — had he lived a Scotchman. 
Therefore, having made inquiries, and learned that a lad 
of your name and age had been rescued from a shipwreck 
and was still alive among the Boers in the Transkei, they 
have set to work to hunt you, and are coming here to take 


45 


you away, for I tell you that I heard it in the dorp yon- 
der.” 

“ Is it so ? ” said Ralph, while Suzanne hung upon his 
words with white face and trembling lips. “ Then I tell 
you that I will not go. I may he English, hut my home 
is here. My own father and mother are dead, and these 
strangers are nothing to me, nor are the estates and titles 
far away anything to me. All that I hold dear on the 
earth is here in the Transkei,” and he glanced at Suzanne, 
who seemed to bless him with her eyes. 

“You talk like a fool,” said Jan, hut in a voice which 
was full of a joy that he could not hide, “ as is to he ex- 
pected of an ignorant boy. Now I am a man who has 
seen the world, and I know better, and I tell you that 
although they are an accursed race, still it is a fine thing 
to he a lord among the English. Yes, yes, I know the 
English lords. I saw one once when I went to Capetown; 
he was the Governor there, and driving through the streets 
in State, dressed as bravely as a blue-jay in his spring 
plumage, while everybody took off their hats to him, ex- 
cept I, Jan Botmar, who would not humble myself thus. 
Yet to have such clothes as that to wear every day, while 
all the people salute you and make a path for you, is not 
a thing to he laughed at. See hoy, it just comes to this: 
here you are poor and little, there you may he rich and 
much, and it is our duty not to stand in your road, though 
it may break our hearts to lose you. So you had best 
make up your mind to go away with the damned Scotch- 
men when they come, though I hope that you will think 
kindly of us when you get to your own country. Yes, 
yes, you shall go, and what is more, you may take my best 
horse to ride away on, the thoroughbred schimmel, and my 
new black felt hat that I bought in the dorp. There, that 


46 


is done with, praise be to God, and I am going out, for 
this place is so thick with smoke that I can’t see my own 
hand,” and he rose to go, adding that if the two Scotch- 
men did not w^ant a bullet through them, it would be as 
well if they kept out of his way when they came upon the 
farm. 

Now in saying that the room was thick with smoke Jan 
lied, for both the men’s pipes went out when they began 
to talk. But as I knew why he lied I did not think so 
much of it, for to tell the truth at that moment I could 
see little better than he could, since, although I would 
have poisoned those two Scotchmen before I suffered them 
to take Ralph away, the very thought of his going was 
enough to fill my eyes with tears, and to cause Suzanne to 
weep aloud shamelessly. 

“ Wait a bit, father, — I beg your pardon, Jan Botmar,” 
said Ralph in a clear and angry voice; “ it is my turn now, 
for you may remember that when we began to talk I had 
something to say, but you stopped me; but now, with your 
leave, as you have got off the horse I will get on.” 

Jan slowly sat down again and said: 

“ Speak. What is it?” 

“ This: that if you send me away you are likely to lose 
more than you bargain for.” 

Now Jan stared at him perplexedly, but I smiled, for I 
guessed what was to come. 

“ What am I likely to lose?” he asked, “ beyond my 
best horse and my felt hat? Allemachter! Do you want 
my span of black oxen also? Well, you shall have them 
if you like, for I should wish you to trek to your new 
home in England behind good cattle.” 

“ No,” answered Ralph coolly, “ but I want your daugh- 
ter, and if you send me away I think that she will 
with me.” 


come 


CHAPTER VI 


THE COMING OF THE ENGLISHMEN 

How on hearing this Snzanne said, “Oh!” and sank 
back in her chair as though she were going to faint; but 
I burst out laughing, half because Ralph’s impertinence 
tickled me and half at the sight of my husband’s face. 
Presently he turned upon me in a fine rage. 

“ Be silent, you silly woman,” he said. “ Do you hear 
what that mad boy says? He says that he wants my 
daughter.” 

“Well, what of it?” I answered. “Is there anything 
wonderful in that? Suzanne is of an age to be married 
and pretty enough for any young man to want her.” 

“ Yes, yes; that is true now I come to think of it,” said 
Jan, pulling his beard. “ But, woman, he says that he 
wants to take her away with him.” 

“Ah!” I replied, “that is another matter. That he 
shall never do with my consent.” 

“Ho, indeed, he shall never do that,” echoed Jan. 

“ Suzanne,” said I in the pause that followed, “ you have 
heard all this talk. Tell us, then, openly what is your 
mind in the matter.” 

“ My mind is, mother,” she answered very quietly, “ that 
I wish to obey you and my father in all things, as is my 
duty, but that I have a deeper duty towards Ralph whom 

47 


48 


God gave me out of the sea. Therefore, if you send away 
Ralph without a cause, if he desires it I shall follow him 
as soon as I am of age and marry him, or if you keep me 
from him by force then I think that I shall die. That is 
all I have to say.” 

“And quite enough, too,” I answered, though in my 
heart I liked the girl’s spirit, and guessed that she was 
plajdng a part to prevent her father from sending away 
Ralph against his will. 

“ All this is pretty hearing,” said J an, staring from one 
to the other. “ Why, now that I think of it, I never heard 
that you two were more than brother and sister to each 
other. Say, you shameless girl, when did all this come 
about, and why do you dare to promise yourself in mar- 
riage without my consent? ” 

“ Because there was no time to ask it, father,” said Su- 
zanne, looking down, “for Ralph and I only spoke together 
this morning.” 

“ He spoke to you this morning, and now it seems that 
you are ready to forsake your father and your mother and 
to follow him across the world, you wicked and ungrateful 
child.” 

“ I am not wicked and I am not ungrateful,” answered 
Suzanne; “it is you who are wicked, who want to send 
Ralph away and break all our hearts.” 

“ It is false, miss,” shouted her father in answer, “ for 
you know well that I do not want to send him away.” 

“ Then why did you tell him that he must go and take 
your roan horse and new hat? ” 

“ For his own good, girl.” 

“ Is it for his good that he should go away from all of 
us who love him and he lost across the sea? ” and choking 
she hurst into tears, while her father muttered: 


49 


“Why, the girl has become like a tiger, she who was 
milder than a sheep! ” 

“ Hush, Suzanne,” broke in Ralph, “ and you who have 
been father and mother to me, listen I pray you. It is 
true that Suzanne and I love each other very dearly, as 
we have always loved each other, though how much we 
did not know till this morning. Now, I am a waif and 
a castaway whom you have nurtured, and have neither 
lands nor goods of my own, therefore you may well think 
that I am no match for your daughter, who is so beautiful, 
and who, if she outlives you, will inherit all that you have. 
If you decide thus it is just, however hard it may he. But 
you tell me, though I have heard nothing of it till now, 
and I think that it may he hut idle talk, that I have both 
lands and goods far away in England, and you bid me be- 
gone to them. Well, if you turn me out I must go, for 
I cannot stay alone in the veldt without a house, or a 
friend, or a hoof of cattle. But then I tell you that when 
Suzanne is of age I shall return and marry her, and take 
her away with me, as I have a right to do if she desires it, 
for I will not lose everything that I love in the world at 
one stroke. Indeed nothing hut death shall part me from 
Suzanne. Therefore, it comes to this: either you must let 
me stay here and, poor as I am, he married to Suzanne 
when it shall please you, or, if you dismiss me, you must 
he ready to see me come hack and take away Suzanne.” 

“ Suzanne, Suzanne,” I interrupted angrily, for I grew 
jealous of the girl; “ have you no thought or word, Ralph, 
for any save Suzanne?” 

“I have thoughts for all,” he answered, “but Suzanne 
alone has thought for me, since it seems that your hus- 
band would send me away, and you, mother, sit still and 
say not a word to stop him.” 

4 


50 


“ Learn to judge speech and not silence, lad,” I an- 
swered. “ Look you, all have been talking, and I have 
shammed dead like a stink-cat when dogs are about; now 
I am going to begin. First of all, you, J an, are a fool, for 
in your thick head you think that rank and wealth are 
everything to a man, and therefore you would send Ralph 
away to seek rank and wealth that may or may not belong 
to him, although he does not wish to go. As for you, 
Ralph, you are a bigger fool, for you think that Jan Bob- 
mar, your foster-father here, desires to he rid of you when 
in truth he only seeks your good to his own sore loss. As 
for you, Suzanne, you are the biggest fool of all, for you 
wish to fly in everybody’s face, like a cat with her first 
litter of kittens; but there, what is the use of arguing with 
a girl in love? Now listen, and I will ask you some ques- 
tions, all of you. Jan, do you wish to send Ralph away 
with these strangers ? ” 

“ Almighty! vrouw,” he answered, “ you know well that 
I would as soon send away my right hand. I wish him 
to stop here for ever, and whatever I have is his; yes, 
even my daughter. But I seek what is best for him, 
and I would not have it said in after years that Jan Bot- 
in ar had kept an English lad not old enough to judge for 
himself from his rank and wealth because he took pleas- 
ure in his company and wished to marry him to his 
girl.” 

“ Good,” I said. “ And now for you, Suzanne; what 
have you to say? ” 

“ I have nothing to add to my words,” she replied; “ you 
know all my heart.” 

“ Good again. And you, Ralph?” 

“ I say, mother, that I will not budge from this place 
unless I am ordered to go, and if I do go, I will come back 


51 


for Suzanne. I love yon all, and with you I wish to live 
and nowhere else.” 

“ Kay Ralph,” I answered sighing, “ if once you go you 
will never come hack, for out yonder you will find a new 
home, new interests, and, perchance, new loves. Well, 
though nobody has thought of me in this matter, I have 
a voice in it, and I will speak for myself. That lad yonder 
has been a son to me for many years, and I who have none 
love him as such. He is a man as we reckon in this 
country, and he does not wish to leave us any more than 
we wish him to go. Moreover, he loves Suzanne, and 
Suzanne loves him, and I believe that the God who 
brought them together at first means them to he husband 
and wife, and that such love as they bear to each other 
will give them more together than any wealth or rank can 
bring to them apart. Therefore I say, husband, let our 
son, Ralph, stay here w r ith us and marry our daughter, 
Suzanne, decently and in due season, and let their children 
be our children, and their love our love.” 

“ And how about the Scotchmen who are coming with 
power to take him away? ” 

“ Do you and Ralph go to the bush veldt with the cattle 
to-morrow,” I answered, “ and leave me to deal with the 
Scotchmen.” 

“Well,” said Jan, “I consent, for who can stand up 
against so many words, and the Lord knows that to lose 
Ralph would have broken my heart as it would have 
broken that girl’s, perhaps more so, since girls change 
their fancies, but I am too old to change. Come here, my 
children.” 

They came, and he laid one of his big hands upon the 
head of each of them, saying: — 

“ May the God in Heaven bless you both, who to me 


52 


are one as dear as the other, making yon happy with each 
other for many long years, and may He turn aside from 
yon and from ns the punishment that is due to all of ns 
because, on account of our great love, we are holding you 
hack, Ealph, from the home, the kin and the fortune to 
which you were horn.” Then he kissed each of them on 
the forehead and let them go. 

“ If there he any punshment for that which is no sin, 
on my head he it,” said Ealph, “ since never would I have 
gone from here by my own will.” 

“ Aye, aye,” answered J an, “ hut who can take account 
of the talk of a lad in love. Well, .we have committed 
the sin and we must hear the sorrow. Now I go out to 
see to the kraaling of the cattle, which we will drive off 
to the bush-veldt to-morrow at dawn, for I will have 
naught to do with these Scotchmen; your mother must 
settle with them as she wills, only I beg of her that she 
will tell me nothing of the bargain. Nay, do not come 
with me, Ealph; stop you with your dear, for to-morrow 
you will he parted for a while.” 

So he went, and did not return again till late, and we 
three sat together and made pretence to he very happy, 
hut somehow were a little sad, for Jan’s words about sin 
and sorrow stuck in our hearts, as the honest words of a 
stupid, upright man are apt to do. 

Now on the morrow at dawn, as had been arranged, Jan 
and Ealph rode away to the warm veldt with the cattle, 
leaving me and Suzanne to look after the farm. Three 
days later the Scotchmen came, and then it was that for 
love of Ealph and for the sake of the happiness of my 
daughter I sinned the greatest sin of all my life— the sin 
that was destined to shape the fates of others yet unborn. 


53 


I was seated on the stoep in the afternoon when I saw 
three white men and some Cape boys, their servants, riding 
np to the house. 

“ Here come those who would steal my boy from me/* 
I^hought to myself, and, like Pharaoh, I hardened my 
heart. 

Now in those days my sight was very good, and while 
the men were yet some way off I studied them all and 
made up my mind about them. First there was a large 
young man of five-and-twenty or thereabouts, and I noted 
with a sort of fear that he was not unlike to Ealph. The 
eyes were the same and the shape of the forehead, only 
this gentleman had a weak, uncertain mouth, and I judged 
that he was very good-humoured, but of an indolent mind. 
By his side rode another man of quite a different stamp,, 
and middle-aged. “ The lawyer,” I said to myself as I 
looked at his weasel-like face, bushy eyebrows, and red 
hair. Indeed, that was an easy guess, for who can mistake 
a lawyer, whatever his race may be. That trade is stronger 
than any blood, and leaves the same seal on all who follow 
it. Doubtless if those lawyers of whom the Lord speaks, 
hard things in the Testament were set side by side with 
the lawyers who draw mortgage bonds and practise usury 
here in South Africa, they would prove to be as like to 
each other as are the grains of corn upon one mealie cob. 

“A fool and a knave,” said I to myself. “Well, per- 
haps I can deal with the knave and then the fool will not 
trouble me.” 

As for the third man, I took no pains to study him, for 
I saw at once that he was nothing but an interpreter. 

Well, up they rode to the stoep , the two Englishmen 
taking off their hats to me, after their foolish fashion, 
while the interpreter, who called me “ Aunt,” although I 


54 


was younger than he was, asked for leave to off-saddle, 
according to our custom. I nodded my head, and having 
given the horses to the Cape hoys, they came up upon the 
stoep and shook hands with me as I sat, for I was not 
going to rise to greet two Englishmen whom I already 
hated in my heart, first because they were Englishmen, 
and secondly because they were going to tempt me into 
sin, for such sooner or later we always learn to hate. 

“ Sit,” I said, pointing to the yellow-wood bench which 
was seated with strips of rimpi, and the three of them 
squeezed themselves into the bench and sat there like 
white-breasted crows on a hough; the young man staring 
ut me with a silly smile, the lawyer peering this way and 
that, and turning up his sharp nose at the place and all 
in it, and the interpreter doing nothing at all, for he was 
a sensible man, who knew the habits of well-bred people 
and how to behave in their presence. After five minutes 
or so the lawyer grew impatient, and said something in a 
sharp voice, to which the interpreter answered, “ Wait.” 

So they waited till just as the young man was beginning 
to go to sleep before my very eyes, Suzanne came upon the 
verandah, whereupon he woke up in a hurry, and, jumping 
off the bench, began to bow and scrape and to offer her 
liis seat, for there was no other. 

“ Suzanne,” I said, taking no notice of his bad manners, 
“ get coffee,” and she went, looking less displeased at his 
grimaces than I would have had her do. 

In time the coffee came, and they drank it, or pretended 
io, after which the lawyer began to grow impatient once 
more, and spoke to the interpreter, who said to me that 
they had come to visit us on a matter of business. 

Then tell him that it can wait till after we have 
<eaten,” I answered. “ It is not my habit to talk business 


55 


in the afternoon. Why is the lawyer man so impatient, 
seeing that doubtless he is paid by the day? ” 

This was translated, and the lawyer asked how I knew 
his trade. 

“ In the same way that I know a weasel by its face and 
a stink-cat by its smell,” I replied, for every minute I 
hated that advocate more. 

At this answer the lawyer grew white with anger, and 
the young lord burst into a roar of laughter, for, as I have 
said, these English people have no manners. However, 
they settled themselves down again on the yellow-wood 
bench and looked at me; while I, folding my hands, sat 
opposite, and looked at them for somewhere about another 
hour, as the interpreter told them that if they moved I 
should be offended, and, for my part, I was determined 
that I would not speak to them of their business until 
Suzanne had gone to bed. 

At last, when I saw that they would bear it no longer, 
for they were becoming very wrathful, and saying words 
that sounded like oaths, I called for supper and we went 
in and ate it. Here again I noticed the resemblance be- 
tween the young man and Ealph, for he had the same 
tricks of eating and drinking, and I saw that when he had 
done his meat he turned himself a little sideways from the 
table, crossing his legs in a peculiar fashion just as it had 
always had been Ealph ? s habit to do. 

“The two had one grandfather, or one grandmother,” 
I said to myself, and grew afraid at the thought. 


CHAPTER VII 


THE SIN OF VROUW BOTMAR 

When the meat was cleared away I bade Suzanne go 
to bed, which she did most unwillingly, for knowing the 
errand of these men she wished to hear our talk. As soon 
as she was gone I took a seat so that the light of the 
candles left my face in shadow and fell full on those 
of the three men — a wise thing to do if one is wicked 
enough to intend to tell lies about any matter — and said: 

“ Now, here I am at your service; be pleased to set out 
the business that you have in hand.” 

Then they began, the lawyer, speaking through the in- 
terpreter, asking, “Are you the Yrouw Botmar?” 

“ That is my name.” 

“Where is your husband, Jan Botmar?” 

“ Somewhere on the veldt; I do not know where.” 

“ Will he back to-morrow? ” 

“ No.” 

“ When will he be back? ” 

“Perhaps in two months, perhaps in three, I cannot 
fell.” 

At this they consulted together, and then went on: 

“ Have you living with you a young Englishman named 
Ralph Mackenzie ? ” 

“ One named Ralph Kenzie lives with us.” 

56 


57 


“ Where is he? ” 

“ With my husband on the veldt. I do not know 
where.” 

“ Can you find him? ” 

“ No, the veldt is very wide. If you wish to see him 
you must wait till he comes hack.” 

“ When will that he? ” 

“ I am not his nurse and cannot tell; perhaps in three 
months, perhaps in six.” 

Now again they consulted, and once more went on: 

“ Was the hoy, Ealph Mackenzie, or Kenzie, ship- 
wrecked in the India in the year 1824? ” 

“ Dear Lord! ” I cried, affecting to lose my patience, 
“am I an old Kaffir wife up before atjie Landdrost for steal- 
ing hens that I should be cross-questioned in this fashion? 
Set out all your tale at once, man, and I will answer it.” 

Thereon, shrugging his shoulders, the lawyer produced 
a paper which the interpreter translated to me. In it 
were written down the names of the passengers who were 
upon the vessel India when she sailed from a place called 
Bombay, and among the names those of Lord and Lady 
Glenthirsk and their son, the Honourable Ralph Mac- 
kenzie, aged nine. Then followed the evidence of one or 
two survivors of the shipwreck, which stated that Lady 
Glenthirsk and her son were seen to reach the shore in 
safety in the boat that was launched from the sinking ship. 
After this came a paragraph from an English newspaper 
published in Capetown, dated not two years before, and 
headed “ Strange Tale of the Sea,” which paragraph, with 
some few errors, told the story of the finding of Ealph — 
though how the writing man knew it I know not, unless 
it was through the tutor with the blue spectacles of whom 
I have spoken — and said that he was still living on the 


58 


farm of Jan Botmar in the Transkei. This was all that 
was in the paper. I asked to look at it and kept it, saying 
in the morning that the Kaffir girl seeing it lying about 
the kitchen had nsed it to light the fire; but to this day 
it is with the other things in the waggon chest under my 
bed. 

When the paper was done with the lawyer took up the 
tale and told me that it was believed in England that Lord 
Glenthirsk had been drowned in the sea, as indeed he was, 
and that Lady Glenthirsk and her son perished on the 
shore with the other women and children, for so those 
sent by the English Government to search out the facts 
had reported. Thus it came about that after a while Lord 
Genthirsk’s younger brother was admitted by law to his 
title and estates, which he enjoyed for some eight years, 
that is until his death. About a year before he died, how- 
ever, someone sent him the paragraph headed “ Strange 
Tale of the Sea,” and he was much disturbed by it, though 
to himself he argued that it was nothing hut an idle story, 
such as it seems are often put into newspapers. The end 
of the matter was that he took no steps to discover whether 
the tale were true or false, and none knew of it save him- 
self, and he was not minded to go fishing in that ugly 
water. So it came about that he kept silent as the grave, 
till at length, when the grave yawned at his feet, and when 
the rank and the lands and the wealth were of no more 
use to him, he opened his mouth to his son and to his 
lawyer, the two men who sat before me, and to them only, 
bidding them seek out the beginnings of the tale, and if 
it were true, to make restitution to his nephew. 

Now — for all this, listening with my ears wide open, and 
sometimes filling in what was not told me in words, I 
gathered from the men before they left the house — as it 


59 


chanced the dying lord could not have chosen two worse 
people for snch an errand, seeing that though the son was 
honest, both of them were interested in proving the tale 
to be false. Since that time, however, often I have 
thought that he knew this himself, and trusted by the 
choice both to cheat his own conscience and to preserve 
the wealth and dignity for his son. God, to whom he has 
gone, alone knows the trnth of it, but with snch a man it 
may very well have been as I think. I say that both were 
interested, for it seems, as he told me afterwards, that the 
lawyer was to receive a great snm — ten thousand pounds — 
under the will of the dead lord for whom he had done 
much during his lifetime. But if Ralph were proved to 
be the heir this sum would have been his and not the 
lawyer’s, for the money was part of his father’s inherit- 
ance; therefore it was worth just ten thousand pounds to 
that lawyer to convince himself and the false lord that 
Ralph was not the man, and therefore it was that I found 
him so easy to deal with. 

Now after his father was dead the lawyer tried to per- 
suade the son to take no notice of his dying words, and to 
let the matter rest where it was, seeing that he had noth- 
ing to gain and much to lose. But this he would not con- 
sent to, for, as I have said, he was honest, declaring that 
he could not be easy in his mind till he knew the truth, 
and that if he did not go to find it out himself he would 
send others to do so for him. As the lawyer desired this 
least of anything, he gave way, and they set out upon their 
journey — which in those days was a very great journey 
indeed — arriving at last in safety at our stead in the 
Transkei; for, whether he liked it or not, his companion — 
who now was called Lord Glenthirsk — would not be turned 
aside from the search or suffer him to prosecute it alone. 


60 


At length, when all the tale was told, the lawyer looked 
at me with his sharp eyes and said, through the interpreter: 

“ Yrouw Botmar, you have heard the story, tell us what 
you know. Is the young man who lives with you he whom 
we seek? ” 

Now I thought for a second, though that second seemed 
like a year. All doubt had left me, there was no room for 
it. Balph and no other was the man, and on my answer 
might hang his future. But I had argued the thing out 
before and made up my mind to lie, though, so far as I 
know, it is the only lie I ever told, and I am not a woman 
who often changes her mind. Therefore I lied. 

“ It is not he,” I said, “ though for his sake I might 
wish that it were, and this I can prove to you.” 

Now, when I had told this great falsehood, prompted to 
it by my love for the lad and my love for Suzanne, his 
affianced wife, my mind grew as it were empty for a mo- 
ment, and I remember that in the emptiness I seemed to 
hear the sound of laughter echoing in the air somewhere 
above the roof of the house. Very swiftly I recovered 
myself, and looking at the men I saw that my words re- 
joiced them, except the interpreter indeed, who being a 
paid servant coming from far away, from the neighbour- 
hood of Capetown I believe, had no interest in the matter 
one way or the other beyond that of earning his money 
with as little trouble as possible. Yes, they smiled at each 
other, looking as though a great weight had been lifted 
off their minds, till presently the lawyer checked himself 
and said: 

“ Be so good as to set out the proofs of which you speak, 
Yrouw Botmar.” 

“ I will,” I answered, “ but tell me first, the ship India 
was wrecked in the year 1824, was she not? ” 


61 


" Undoubt edly,” answered the lawyer. 

“Well, have you heard that another ship called the 
Flora , travelling from the Cape I know not whither, was 
lost on this coast in the same month of the following year, 
and that a few of her passengers escaped?” 

" I have heard of it,” he said. 

" Good. Now look here,” and going to a chest that 
stood beneath the window, I lifted from it the old Bible 
that belonged to my grandfather and father, on the white 
pages at the beginning of which are written the record of 
many births, marriages, deaths and other notable events 
that had happened in the family. Opening it I searched 
and pointed to a certain entry inscribed in the big writing 
of my husband Jan, and in ink which was somewhat faint, 
for the ink that the traders sold us in those days had little 
virtue in it. Beneath this entry were others made by Jan 
in later years, telling of things that had happened to us, 
such as the death of his great-aunt who left him money, 
the outbreak of small-pox on the farm, and the number of 
people who died from it, the attack of a band of the red 
Kaffirs upon our house, when by the mercy of God we 
beat them off, leaving twelve of their dead behind them, 
but taking as many of our best oxen, and so forth. 

"Bead,” I said, and the interpreter read as follows: 

" On the twelfth day of September in the year 1825 (the 
date being written in letters) our little daughter Suzanne 
found a starving English boy in a kloof, who had been 
shipwrecked on the coast. We have taken him in as a 
gift of the Lord. 'He says that his name is Rolf Kenzie.” 

" You see the date,” I said. 

"Yes,” answered the lawyer, "and it has not been 
altered! ” 

" No,” I added, " it has not been altered; ” but I did 


62 


not tell them that Jan had not written it down till after- 
wards, and then by mistake had recorded the year in which 
he wrote, refusing to change it, although I pointed out the 
error, because, he said, there was no room, and that it 
would make a mess in the book. 

“ There is one more thing,” I went on; “ you say tk A 
mother of him you seek was a great lady. Well, I saw 
the body of the mother of the hoy who was found, and it 
was that of a common person very roughly clad with coarse 
underclothes and hands hard with labour, on which there 
was hut one ring, and that of silver. Here it is,” and 
going to a drawer took from it a common silver ring which 
I once bought from a pedlar because he worried me into it. 
“ Lastly, gentlemen, the father of our lad was no lord, 
unless in your country it is the custom of lords to herd 
sheep, for the hoy told me that in his own land his father 
was a shepherd, and that he was travelling to some distant 
English colony to follow his trade. That is all I have to 
say about it, though I am sorry that the lad is not here to 
tell it you himself.” 

When he had heard this statement of mine, which I 
made in a cold and indifferent voice, the young lord, 
Kalph’s cousin, rose and stretched himself, smiling happily. 

“ Well,” he said, “ there is the end of a very had night- 
mare, and I am glad enough that we came here and found 
out the truth, for had we not done so I should never have 
been happy in my mind.” 

“Yes,” answered the lawyer, the interpreter rendering 
their words all the while, “ the Yrouw Botmar’s evidence 
is conclusive, though I shall put her statement in writing 
and ask her to sign it. There is only one thing, and that 
is the strange resemblance of the names,” and he glanced 
at him with his quick eyes. 


63 


“ There are many Mackenzies in Scotland/’ answered 
Lord Genthirsk, “ and I have no doubt that this poor 
fellow was a shepherd emigrating with his wife and child 
to Australia or somewhere.” Then he yawned and added, 
“ I am going outside to get some air before I sleep. Per- 
haps you will draw up the paper for the good lady to sign.” 

“ Certainly, my lord,” answered the lawyer, and the 
young man went away quite convinced. 

After he had gone the lawyer produced pen and ink and 
wrote out the statement, putting in it all the lies that I 
had told, and copying the extract from the fly-leaf of 
the Bible. When he had done the interpreter translated 
it to me, and then it was that the lawyer told me about 
the last wishes of the dying lord, the father of the young 
Scotchman, and how it would have cost him ten thousand 
pounds and much business also had the tale proved true. 
Now at last he gave me the paper to sign. Besides the 
candles on the table, which being of mutton fat had burnt 
out, there was a lamp fed with whale’s oil, but this also 
was dying, the oil being exhausted, so that its flame, which 
had sunk low, jumped from time to time with a little 
noise, giving out a blue light. In that unholy blue light, 
which turned our faces ghastly pale, the lawyer and I 
looked at each other as I sat before him, the pen in my 
hand, and in his eyes I read that he was certain that I was 
about to sign a wicked lie, and in mine he read that I knew 
it to be a lie. 

For a while we stared at each other thus, discovering 
each other’s souls. “ Sign,” he said, shrugging his shoul- 
ders, “ the light dies.” 

. Then I signed, and as I wrote the lamp went out, leaving 
us in darkness, and through the darkness once more I heard 
that sound of laughter echoing in the air above the house. 


CHAPTER VIII 


THE WISDOM OF SUZANNE 

Now, although Suzanne heard not a word of our talk, 
still she guessed its purport well enough, for she knew that 
I proposed to throw dust into the eyes of the Englishmen. 
This troubled her conscience sorely, for the more she 
thought of it the more did it seem to her to be wicked 
that just because we loved him and did not wish to part 
with him, Ralph should be cheated of his birthright. All 
night long she lay awake brooding, and before ever the 
dawn broke she had settled in her mind that she herself 
would speak to the Englishmen, telling them the truth, 
come what might of her words, for Suzanne, my daughter, 
was a determined girl with an upright heart. Now feel- 
ing happier because of her decision, at length she fell 
asleep and slept late, and as it happened this accident of 
fate was the cause of the miscarriage of her scheme. 

It came about in this way. Quite early in the morning 
— at sun-up, indeed — the Englishmen rose, and coming 
out of the little guest-chamber, drank the coffee that I had 
made ready for them, and talked together for a while. 
Then the young lord — Ralph's cousin — said that as they 
journeyed yesterday at a distance of about an hour on 
horseback from the farm he had noticed a large vlei, or 
pan, where were many dusks and also some antelope. To 

64 


65 


this vlei he proposed to ride forward with one servant only, 
and to stay there till the others overtook him, shooting the 
wild things which lived in the place, for to be happy these 
Englishmen mnst always he killing something. So he 
bade me farewell, making me a present of the gold chain 
which he took off his watch, which chain I still have. Then 
he rode away, smiling after his fashion; and as I watched 
him go I was glad to think that he was no knave but only 
an easy tool in the hands of others. We never met again, 
but I believe that death finished his story many years ago; 
indeed, all those of whom I tell are dead; only Jan and I 
survive, and our course is well-nigh run. 

When Suzanne awoke at length, having heard from a 
Kaffir girl that the strangers had ordered their horses, but 
not that the young lord had ridden forward, she slipped 
from the house silently, fearing lest I should stay her, and 
hid herself in a little patch of bush at the corner of the 
big mealie field by which she knew the Englishmen must 
pass on their return journey. Presently she heard them 
coming, and when she saw that the young lord was not 
with them, she went to the lawyer, who pulled up his horse 
and waited for her, the rest of the party riding on, and 
asked where his master was, saying that she wished to talk 
with him. And here I must say, if I have not said it 
before, that Suzanne could speak English, though not well. 
The Hollander tutor had instructed her in that tongue, in 
which Ealph also would converse with her at times when 
he did not wish others to understand what they were say- 
ing, for he never forgot his mother language, though he 
mixed many Dutch words with it. 

“He has ridden forward an hour or more ago. Can I take 
any message to him for you ? ” said the lawyer. “ Or if you 
wish to talk of business, to speak to me is to speak to him.” 


66 


“ That may be so/’ answered Suzanne, “ still I like to 
draw my water at the fountain itself. Yet, as he has gone, 
I beg you to listen to me, for when you have heard what 
I have to say I think that you will bring him hack. You 
came here about Ralph Kenzie, did you not, and my 
mother told, you that he is not the man whom you seek, 
did she, not? ” 

The lawyer nodded. 

“ Well, I tell you that all this tale is false, for he is the 
very man,” and she poured out the true story of Ralph 
and of the plot that had been made to deceive them about 
him. 

Now, as I have said, Suzanne’s English was none of the 
best and it is possible that the lawyer did not understand. 
For my part, however, I think that he understood well 
enough, for she told me afterwards that his face grew 
anxious as he listened, and that at length he said: 

“ All this you tell me is very strange and weighty, so 
much so that I must bring my friend hack to look more 
closely into the matter. Return now to the farm and say 
nothing of having met me, for by this evening, or to- 
morrow at the latest, we will come there again and sift 
out the truth of the question.” 

To this she agreed, being guileless, and the lawyer rode 
away after the other. All that day and all the next Su- 
zanne scarcely spoke to me, but I saw that she was expect- 
ing something to happen, and that she glanced continually 
towards the path by which the Englishmen had journeyed, 
thinking to see them riding hack to the farm. But they 
rode back no more, and I am sure that the cunning lawyer 
never breathed one word of his meeting with Suzanne and 
of what took place at it to the young lord. That book 
was shut and it did not please him to reopen it, since to 


67 


do so might have cost him ten thousand pounds. On the 
third morning I found Suzanne still looking down the 
path, and my patience being exhausted by her silence, I 
$ spoke to her sharply. 

“ What are you doing, girl ? ” I asked. “ Have we not 
had enough visitors of late that you must stand here all 
day awaiting more? 99 

“ I seek no new visitors,” Suzanne said, “ but those who 
have been here only, and I see now that I seek in vain.” 

“ What do you mean, Suzanne?” 

Now of a sudden she seemed to make up her mind to 
speak, for she turned and faced me boldly, saying: 

“ I mean, mother, that I told the Englishman with the 
red hair, the agent, that all the fine tale you spun to him 
about Ealph was false, and that he was the man they came 
to find.” 

“You dared do that, girl?” I said, then checked my- 
self and added, “Well, what did the man say?” 

“ He said that he would ride on and bring the young 
lord hack that I might talk with him, but they have not 
come.” 

“ No, nor will they, Suzanne, for if they sought they 
did not wish to find, or at least the lawyer did not wish 
it, for he had too much at stake. Well, things have gone 
finely with you, seeing that your hands are clean from sin, 
and that Ealph still stays at your side.” 

“ The sin of the parents is the sin of the child,” she 
answered, and then of a sudden she took fire as it were, 
and fell upon me and beat me with her tongue; nor could 
I hold my own before this girl of eighteen, the truth being 
that she had right on her side, and I knew it. She told 
me that we were wicked plotters who, to pleasure ourselves, 
had stolen from Ealph everything except his life, and 


68 


many other such hard sayings she threw at me till at last 
I cpuld hear it no more, hut gave her hack word for word. 
Indeed, it would he difficult to say which had the best of 
^ that quarrel, for if Suzanne’s tongue was the nimbler and 
her words were winged with truth, I had the weight of 
experience on my side and the custom of authority. At 
last, as she paused breathless, I cried out: 

“ And for whose sake was all this done, you ungrateful 
chit, if it was not for your own? ” 

“ If that was so, which is not altogether true,” she an- 
swered, “ it would have pleased me better, if, rather than 
make me a partner in this crime, and set me as bait to 
snare Ralph, you had left me to look after my own wel- 
fare.” 

“ What! ” I exclaimed, “ are you then so shallow hearted 
that you were ready to hid farewell to him who for many 
years- has been as your brother, and is now your affianced 
husband? You know well whatever he might promise 
now, that if once he had gone across the sea to England, 
you would have seen him no more.” 

“ No,” she answered, growing calm of a sudden, “ I was 
not so prepared, for sooner would I die than lose Ralph.” 

“ How, then, do you square this with all your fine talk? ” 
I asked, thinking that at length I had trapped her. “ If 
he had gone you must have lost him.” 

“ Not so,” she answered, innocently, “ for I should have 
married him before he went, and then I could have been 
certain that he would return here whenever I wished it.” 

Now when I heard this I gasped, partly because this 
girl’s cleverness took the breath from me, and partly with 
mortification that I should have lived to learn wisdom 
from the mouth of a babe and a suckling. For there was 
no doubt of it, this plan, of which I had not even thought, 


was the answer to the riddle, since by means of it Ralph 
might have kept his own, and we, I donht not, should, 
have kept Ralph. Once married to Suzanne he would 
have returned to her, or if she had gone with him for a 
little while, which might have been better, she would cer- 
tainly have brought him hack, seeing that she loved us 
and her home too well to forsake them. 

Yes, I gasped, and the only answer that I could make- 
when I reflected how little need there had been for the sin 
which we had sinned, was to hurst into weeping, wheron 
Suzanne ran to me and kissed me and we made friends 
again. But all the same, I do not think that she ever 
thought quite so well of me afterwards, and if I thought 
the more of her, still I made up my mind that the sooner 
she was married and had a husband of her own to preach 
to, the better it would he for all of us. 

Thus ended the story of the coming of the Englishmen,, 
and of how Ralph lost his wealth and rank. We never 
heard or saw more of them, seeing that in those days be- 
fore the great Trek we did not write letters, and if we had 
we should not have known where to send them, nor did 
the post-cart pass the door twice a week as it does in this- 
overcrowded land of Natal. 

Now I must go on to tell of the doings of that devil 
upon earth, Swart Piet, and of how the little Kafflr witch- 
doctress, Sihamha Ngenyanga, which means She-who- 
walks-by-the-moonlight, became the slave and saviour of 
Suzanne. 

At this time the Heer van Vooren, Swart Piet’s father,, 
had been dead for two years, and there were strange stories 
as to the manner of his death which I do not think it 
necessary to set out here. Whether or no Swart Piet did 


70 


or did not murder his father I cannot say, nor does it 
matter, for at the least he worked other crimes as had. 
After the death of the Heer van Yooren, however he may 
have chanced to die, this is certain, that Swart Piet in- 
herited great riches as we used to reckon riches in those 
days; that is, he had vast herds of cattle and goats and 
sheep, some of which were kept for him by native chiefs 
far away, as much land as he wanted, and, it was said, 
a good sum in English gold. But he was a strange man, 
not like to other men, for he married no wife and courted 
no misses, that is until he took to courting Suzanne, and 
his only pleasure was to keep the company of Kaffir chiefs 
and women and to mix himself up with the devilments of 
the witch-doctors. Still, as every man has his fate, at 
last he fell in love with Suzanne, and in love with her he 
remained during all his wicked life, if that can he love 
which seeks to persecute and bring misery upon its object. 
It was just before the coming of the Englishmen that this 
passion of his manifested itself, for whenever he met the 
.girl — outside the house for the most part, since Jan did 
not like to have him in it — he made sweet speeches and 
passed foolish pleasantries which, to he just, I am sure 
Suzanne never encouraged since all her heart was else- 
where. 

Now Swart Piet had information of everything, for his 
Kaffir spies brought it to him, therefore he very soon 
learned that Jan and Ralph had gone away with the cattle 
to the warm veldt, and that we two women were alone in 
the house. This was his opportunity, and one of which 
he availed himself, for now two or three times a week he 
would ride over from his place, take supper and ask leave 
to sleep, which it was difficult to refuse, all this time 
wearying the poor girl with his attentions. At last I 


71 


spoke my mind to him about it, though not without hesi- 
tation, for to tell truth Swart Piet was one of the few men 
of whom I have ever been afraid. He listened to me 
politely and answered: 

“ All this is very true, Aunt, but if you desire a fruit 
and it will not fall, then you must shake the tree.” 

“What if it sticks to the hough?” I asked. 

“ Then, Aunt, you must climb the tree and pluck it.” 

“ And what if by that time it is in another man’s 
pouch? ” 

“ Then, Aunt,” he answered with one of those dark 
smiles that turned my blood cold, “then, Aunt, the best 
thing which you can do is to kill the other man and take 
it out, for after that the fruit will taste all the sweeter.” 

“ Get you gone, Swart Piet,” I said in anger, “ for no 
man who talks thus shall stay in my house, and it is very 
well for you that neither my husband nor Ralph Kenzie 
are here to put you out of it.” 

“ Well,” he answered, “ they are not here, are they, and 
as for 3; our house, it is a pretty place; hut I only seek one 
thing in it, and that is not built into the walls. I thank 
you for your hospitality, Aunt, and now, good-day to you.” 

“ Suzanne! ” I called, “ Suzanne! ” for I thought that 
she was in her chamber; but the girl, knowing that Piet 
van Yooren was here, had slipped out, and of this he was 
aware. He knew, moreover, where she had gone, for I 
think that one of his Kaffir servants was watching outside 
and told him, and thither he followed her and made love 
to her. 

In the end — for he would not he put off — he asked her 
for a kiss, whereat she grew angry. Then, for he was no 
shy wooer, he tried to take it by force; but she was strong 
and active and slipped from him. Instead of being 


72 


ashamed, he only laughed after his uncanny fashion, and 
said: 

“ Well, missy, you have the best of me now, hut I shall 
win that kiss yet. Oh! I know all about it; you love the 
English castaway, don’t you? But there, a woman can 
love many men in her life, and when one is dead another 
will serve her turn.” 

“ What do you mean, myn Heer van Yooren? ” asked 
Suzanne, afraid. 

“Mean? Nothing, hut that I shall win that kiss yet, 
yes, and before very long.” 


CHAPTER IX 


HOW SUZANNE SATED SIHAMBA 

How in a valley of the hills, something over an hour’s 
ride from the farm, and not far from the road that ran 
to Swart Piet’s place, lived the little Kaffir witch-doc- 
toress, Sihamba Nygenyanga. This woman did not be- 
long to any of the Transkei or neighbouring tribes, but 
had drifted down from the North; indeed, she was of 
Swazi or some such blood, though why she left her own 
people we did not know at that time. In appearance Si- 
hamba was very strange, for, although healthy, perfectly 
shaped and copper-coloured rather than black, she was no 
taller than a child of twelve years old — a thing that made 
many people believe that she was a bush woman, which 
she most certainly was not. For a Kaffir also she was 
pretty, having fine small features, beautiful white teeth, 
and a fringe of wavy black hair that stood out round her 
head something after the fashion of the gold plates which 
the saints wear in the pictures in our old Bible. 

This woman Sihamba, who might have been a little 
over thirty years of age, had been living in our neighbour- 
hood for some three or four years and practising as a doc- 
toress. Not that she was a “ black ” doctoress, for she 
never took part in the “ smelling-out ” of human beings 
for witchcraft or in the more evil sort of rites. Her trade 


73 


74 


was to sell charms and medicines to the sick, also to cure 
animals of their ailments, at which, indeed, she was very 
clever, though there was some who said that when she 
chose she could “ throw the bones ” and tell the future 
better than most, and this without dressing herself up in 
bladders and snake skins, or falling into fits, or trances, 
and such mummery. Lastly, amongst the natives about, 
and some of the Boers too, I am sorry to say, she had the 
reputation of being the best of rainmakers, and many were 
the head of cattle that she earned by prophesying the 
break-up of a drought, or the end of continual rains. In- 
deed, it is certain that no one whom I ever knew had so 
great a gift of insight into the omens of the weather at all 
seasons of the year, as this strange Sihamba Ngenyanga, 
a name that she got, by the way, because of her habit of 
wandering about in the moonlight to gather the herbs and 
the medicine roots which she used in her trade. 

On several occasions Jan had sent animals to be doctored 
by this Sihamba, for she would not come out to attend to 
them whatever fee was offered to her. At first I did 
not approve of it, but as she always cured the animals, 
whatever their ailments might be, I gave in on the 
matter. 

Now it happened that a few months before some trav- 
eller who had guested at our house gave Suzanne a little 
rough-haired dog bred of parents which had been brought 
from England. Of this dog Suzanne grew very fond, and 
when it fell sick of the distemper she was much distressed. 
So it came about that one afternoon Suzanne put the dog 
in a basket, and taking with her an old Hottentot to carry 
it, set out upon her grey mare for the valley where Si- 
hamba lived. Now Sihamba had her hut and the huts of 
the few people in her service in a recess at the end of the 


75 


valley, so placed that until you were quite on to them you 
would never have guessed that they were there. Down 
this valley Suzanne rode, the Hottentot with the basket 
on his head trotting by her side, till turning the corner 
she came upon a scene which she had very little expected. 
In one part of the open space beyond her, herded by some 
Kaffirs, were a number of cattle, sheep and goats. Oppo- 
site to them in the shadow under the hillside stood the 
huts of Sihamba and in front of these grew a large tree. 
Beneath this tree was Sihamba herself with scarcely any 
clothing on her, for she had been stripped, her tiny wrists 
hound together behind her hack and a rope about her 
neck, of which one end was thrown over a bough of the 
tree. In front of her, laughing brutally, stood none other 
than Swart Piet and with him a small crowd of men, 
mostly half-breed wanderers of the sort that trek from 
place to place claiming hospitality on the grounds of 
cousinship or poverty, until they are turned off as nui- 
sances. Also there were present a few Kaffirs, either head- 
men in Swart PiePs pay or some of his dark associates in 
witchcraft. 

At first Suzanne was inclined to turn her horse and fly, 
hut she was a brave girl, and the perilous state of the little 
doctoress moved her to pity, for where Swart Piet was 
there she suspected cruelty and wicked motive. So she 
rode on, yes, straight up to Swart Piet himself. 

“ In the name of Heaven what passes here, myn Heer? ” 
she asked. 

“Ah! Miss Suzanne, is it you?” he answered. “Well, 
you have not chosen a nice time for your visit, for we are 
about to — hang — this thief and witch, who has been duly 
convicted after a fair trial.” 

“ A fair arial,” said Suzanne, glancing scornfully at the 


76 


rabble about her, “ and were these friends of yours the 
jury? What is her offence? ” 

“ Her offence is that she who lives here on my land has 
stolen my cattle and hid them away in a secret kloof. It 
has been proved against her by ample evidence. There 
are the cattle yonder mixed up with her own. I, as Veld- 
Cornet of the district have tried the case according to law, 
and the woman having been found guilty must die accord- 
ing to law.” 

“ Indeed, myn Heer,” said Suzanne, “ then if I under- 
stand you right, you are both accuser and judge, and the 
law which permits this is one that I never heard of. Oh! ” 
she went on angrily, “ no wonder that the English sing a 
loud song about us Boers and our cruelty to the natives 
when such a thing as this can happen. It is not justice, 
myn Heer; it is a crime for which, if you escape the hand 
of man, God will bring you to account.” 

Then for the first time Sihamba spoke in a very quiet 
voice, which showed no sign of fear. 

“ You are right, lady,” she said; “ it is not justice, it is 
a crime born of revenge, and my life must pay forfeit for 
his wickedness. I am a free woman, and I have harmed 
none and have bewitched none. I have cured sick people 
and sick creatures, that is all. The Heer says that I live 
upon his land, but I am not his slave; I pay him rent to 
live here. I never stole his cattle, they were mixed up 
with mine by his servants in a far off kloof in order to 
trump up a charge against me, and he knows it, for he 
gave orders that the thing should be done, so that after- 
wards he might have the joy of hanging me to this tree, 
because he wishes to be avenged upon me for other mat- 
ters, private matters between me and him. But, lady, do 
not trouble yourself about the fate of such a poor black 


77 


creature as I am. Go away and tell the story if you will, 
but go quickly, for these sights of death are not fit for 
young eyes like yours to see.” 

“ I will not go,” exclaimed Suzanne, “ or if I go, it shall 
be to bring down upon you, Swart Piet, the weight of the 
law which you have broken. Ah! would that my father 
were at home; he does not love Kaffirs but he does love 
justice.” 

Now when they heard Suzanne speaking such bold words 
and saw the fire in her eyes, Swart Piet and those with him 
began to grow afraid. The hanging of the witch-doctoress 
after a formal trial upon a charge of theft of cattle was no 
great matter in those days, for such thefts were common 
and a cause of much trouble to out-lying farmers, nor 
would anyone in these half-settled regions be likely to look 
too closely into the rights and wrongs of an execution on 
account of them. But if a white person who was present 
went away to proclaim to the authorities, perhaps even to 
the Governor of the Cape whose ear could always be won 
through the missionaries of the London Society, that this 
pretended execution was nothing Jbut a murder, then the 
thing became serious. From the moment that Suzanne 
began to speak on behalf of Sihamba, Swart Piet had seen 
that it would be impossible to hang her unless he wished 
to risk his own neck. But he guessed also that the girl 
could not know, this, and therefore he determined to make 
terms by working on her pity, such terms as should put 
her to shame before all those gathered there; yes, and 
leave something of a stain upon her heart for so long as 
she should live. 

“ I do not argue law with young ladies,” he said, with 
a little laugh, “but I am always ready to oblige young 
ladies, especially this young lady. Now, yonder witch and 


78 


cattle-thief has richly earned her doom, yet, because you 
ask it, Suzanne Botmar, I am ready to withdraw the prose- 
cution against her, and to destroy the written record of it 
in my hand, on two conditions, of which the first is that 
she pays over to me by way of compensation for what she 
has stolen, all her cattle and other belongings. Do you 
consent to that, witch? ” 

“ How can I refuse? ” said Sihamba, with a bitter laugh, 
“ seeing that if I do you will take both life and goods. 
But what is the second condition?” 

“ I am coming to that, witch, but it has nothing to do 
with you. Suzanne, it is this: that here, before all these 
people, as the price of this thief s life, you give me the 
kiss which you refused to me the other day.” 

Now, before Suzanne could answer, Sihamba broke in 
eagerly, “ Nay, lady, let not your lips be stained and your 
heart be shamed for the sake of such as I. Better that I 
should die than that you should suffer defilement at the 
hands of Swart Piet, who, born of white blood and black, 
is false to both and a disgrace to both.” 

“ I cannot do it,” gasped Suzanne, turning pale and not 
heeding her outburst, “ and Heer van Vooren, you are a 
coward to ask it of me.” 

“ Can’t you,” he sneered. “ Well, you need not, unless 
you please, and it is true that young women like best to 
be kissed alone. Here, you Kaffirs, pull that little devil 
up; slowly now, that she may learn what a tight string feels 
like about her throat before it chokes her.” 

In obedience to his command three of the evil fellows 
with him caught hold of the end of the rope which hung 
over the bough, and began to pull, dragging the light form 
of Sihamba upwards till only the tips of her big toes 
touched the ground. 


79 


“Doesn’t she dance, prettily?” said Swart Piet with a 
brutal laugh, at the same time motioning to the men to 
keep her thns a while. 

Now Snzanne looked at the blackening lips and the 
little form convulsed in its death struggle, and could bear 
the sight no more. 

“Let her down!” she cried, and, springing from the sad- 
dle, for all this while she had been seated upon her horse, 
she walked up to Piet, saying, “ Take what you seek, but 
oh! for your sake I wish to God that my lips were poison.” 

“ No, no,” gasped Sihamba, who now was lying half 
choked upon the ground. 

“ That is not our bargain, dear,” said Piet; “ it is that 
you should kiss me, not I you.” 

Again Suzanne shrank back, and again at his signal the 
men began to pull upon the rope. Then seeing it, with 
her face as pale as death, she leant forward and touched 
his lips with hers, whereon he seized her round the middle, 
and, drawing her to him, covered her with kisses till even 
the brutes with him called to him not to push his jest too 
far and to let the girl go. This he did, uttering words 
which I will not repeat, and so weak was Suzanne with 
shame that when his arms were taken from round her she 
fell to the ground, and lay there till the old Hottentot, 
her servant, ran to her cursing and weeping with rage, 
and helped her to her feet. For a while she stood saying 
nothing, only wiping her face as though filth had bespat- 
tered it with the sun-kapje which had fallen from her 
head, and her face was whiter than the white cap. At 
last she spoke in a hoarse voice: 

“Loose that woman,” she said, “who has cost me my 
honour.” 

They obeyed her, and snatching up her skin rug Si- 


80 


hamba turned and fled swiftly down the valley. Then 
Suzanne went to her horse, hut before she mounted it she 
looked Swart Piet straight in the eyes. At the time he 
was following her, begging her not to be angry at a joke, 
for his madness was satisfied for a while and had left him. 
But she only looked in answer, and there was something 
so terrible to him in the dark eyes of this young unfriended 
girl that he shrank back, seeing in them, perhaps, the 
shadow of fate to come. Then Suzanne rode away, and 
Swart Piet having commanded his ruffians to fire the huts 
of Sihamba, and to collect her people, goods, and cattle, 
went away also. 

Just at he mouth of the valley something stirred in a 
bush causing the horse to start, so that Suzanne, who was 
thinking of other things, slipped from it to the ground. 
Next moment she saw that it was Sihamba, who knelt be- 
fore her kissing her feet and the hem of her robe. 

“Rise,” she said kindly, “what has been cannot be 
helped, and at least it was no fault of yours.” 

“ Nay, Swallow,” said Sihamba, for I think I have said 
that was the name which the natives had given to Suzanne 
from childhood, I believe, because of the grace of her 
movements and her habit of running swiftly hither and 
thither — “ Nay, Swallow, in a way it was my fault.” 

“What do you mean, Sihamba?” 

“ I mean, Swallow, that although I am so small some 
have thought me pretty, and the real reason of Black Piet’s 
hate for me is — but why should I defile your ears with the 
tale? ” 

“ They would only match my face if you did,” answered 
Suzanne grimly, “ but there is no need; I can guess well 
enough.” 

T ou can guess, Swallow, then you will see why it was 


81 


my fault. Yes, yes, you will see that what I, a black 
woman, who am less than dirt in the eyes of your people, 
would not do to save my own life; you, a white chief- 
tainess, and the fairest whom we know, have done of your 
own will to keep it in me.” 

“ If the act w^as good,” answered Suzanne, fl may it go 
to my credit in the Book of the Great One who made us.” 

“ It will go to your credit, Swallow,” answered Sihamba 
with passion, “ both in that Book and in the hearts of all 
that hear this story, hut most of all in this heart of mine. 
Oh! listen, lady; sometimes a cloud comes over me, and in 
that cloud I who was horn a doctoress see visions of things 
that are to happen, true visions. Among them I see this: 
that many moons hence and far away I shall live to save 
you as you have saved me, but between that day and this 
the cloud of the future is black to my eyes, black hut 
living.” 

“ It may he so,” answered Suzanne, “ for I have heard 
that you have the Sight. And now, farewell; you had best 
seek out some friends among your people and hide your- 
self.” 

“ My people,” said Sihamba; “ then I must seek long, 
for they are very very far away, nor do they desire to see 
me.” 

“ Why not? ” 

u Because as it chances I am by blood their ruler, for I 
am the only child of my fathers head-wife. But they 
would not have me set over them as chieftainess unless I 
married a man, and towards marriage I have no wish, for 
I am different from other women, both in body and heart. 
So having quarrelled with them on this and another matter 
of policy I set out to seek my fortune and left them to 
theirs.” 


82 


“ Your fortune was not a good one, Sihamba, for it led 
you to Swart Piet and the rope.” 

“ Nay, lady, it led me to the Swallow and freedom; no, 
not to freedom but to slavery, for I am your slave, whose 
life you have bought at a great price. Now I have nothing 
left in the world; Swart Piet has taken my cattle which I 
earned cow by cow and bred up heifer by heifer, and save 
for the wit within my brain and this kaross upon my 
shoulders, I have nothing.” 

“What then, will you do, Sihamba?” 

“ What you do, Swallow, that I shall do, for am I not 
your slave bought at a great price? I will go home with 
you and serve you, yes, to my life’s end.” 

“ That would please me well enough, Sihamba, but I do 
not know how it would please my father.” 

“What pleases you pleases him. Swallow; moreover, 1 
can save my food twice over by curing his cattle and horses 
in sickness, for in such needs I have skill.” 

“Well,” she said, “come, and when my father returns 
we will settle how it shall be.” 


CHAPTEE X 


THE OATH OF SIHAMBA 

Suzanne came home and told me her story, and when 
I heard it I was like a mad woman; indeed, it would have 
gone ill with Swart Piet’s eyes and hair if I could have 
fallen in with him that night. 

“ Wait till your father returns, girl,” I said. 

“ Yes, mother,” she answered, “ I wait for him — and 
Ealph.” 

“ What is to be done with the little doctoress, Si- 
hamba ? ” I asked, adding, “ I do not like such people 
about the place.” 

“ Let her bide also till the men come back, mother,” she 
answered, “ and then they will see to it. Meanwhile there 
is an empty hut down by the cattle kraal where she can 
live.” 

“ So Sihamba stopped on and became a body servant to 
Suzanne, the best I ever saw, though she would do no 
other work save that of attending to sick animals. 

Ten days afterwards Jan and Ealph returned safe and 
sound, leaving some Kaffirs in charge of the cattle in the 
bush-veldt. Very glad we were to see them since putting 
everything else aside, it was lonely work for two women 
upon the place with no neighbour at hand, and in those 
days to be lonely meant to be in danger. 

83 


84 


When we were together Jan’s first question to me was: 

“ Have those Englishmen been here?” 

“ They have been here/’ I answered, “ and they have 
gone away.” 

Jan asked me nothing more of the matter, for he did not 
wish to know what had passed between us. Only he looked 
at me queerly, and as I think, thought the worse of me 
afterwards, for he found out that Suzanne and I had quar- 
relled about the song I sang in the ears of those English- 
men, and what that song was he could guess very well. 
Yes, yes, although he had been a party to the fraud, in his 
heart Jan put all the blame of it upon me, for that is the 
way of men who are mean, and always love to say “ The 
woman tempted me,” a vile habit which has come down 
to them with their blood. 

Meanwhile another talk was passing between Ralph and 
Suzanne. They had rushed to meet each other like two 
separated colts bred in the same meadow, hut when they 
came together it was different. Ralph put out his arms to 
embrace her, hut she pushed him hack and said, “ No, not 
until we have spoken together.” 

“This is a cold greeting,” said Ralph, amazed and 
trembling, for he feared lest Suzanne should have changed 
her mind as to their marriage. “ What is it that you have 
to tell me? Speak on, quickly.” 

“ Two things, Ralph,” she answered, and taking the 
least of them first, she plunged straightway into a full 
account of the coming of the Englishmen, of all that had 
passed then, and of her quarrel with me upon the matter. 

“And now, Ralph,” she ended, “you will understand 
that you have been cheated of your birthright, and this I 
think it just that you should know, so that if you will, 
you may change your mind about staying here, for there 


85 


is yet time, and follow these Englishmen to wherever it is 
they have gone, to claim from them yonr heritage.” 

Balph laughed and answered, “Why, Sweet, I thought, 
that we had settled all this long ago. That your mother 
did not tell the men quite the truth is possible, hut if she 
played with it, it was for the sake of all of us and with my 
leave. Let them go and the fortune with them, for even 
if I could come to England and find it, there I should be 
but as a wild buck in a sheep kraal, out of place and un- 
happy. Moreover, we should be separated, dear, for even 
if you would all consent, I could never take you from your 
own people and the land where you were born. So now 
that there is an end to this, once and for ever, let me kiss 
you in greeting, Suzanne.” 

But she shook her head and denied him, saying “ No, 
for I have another tale to tell you, and an uglier — so ugly 
indeed that after the hearing of it I doubt much whether 
you will wish to kiss me any more.” 

“ Be swift with it, then,” he answered, for you torment 
me,” and she began her story. 

She told how that, after he had gone away, Swart Piet 
began to persecute her; how he had wished to kiss her and 
she had refused him, so that he left her with threats- 
Then she paused suddenly and said: 

“ And now, before I finish the story, you shall swear an 
oath to me. ‘You shall swear that you will not attempt to 
kill Swart Piet because of it.” 

At first he would swear nothing, for already he was wild 
with anger against the man, whereupon she answered that 
she would tell him nothing. 

At last, when they had wrangled for a while, he asked 
her in a hoarse voice, “ Say now, Suzanne, have you com > 
to any harm at the hands of this fellow? ” 


86 

“ No,” she answered, turning her head away, “ God be 
thanked! I have come to no harm of my body, but of my 
mind I have come to great harm.” 

Now he breathed more freely and said: 

“ Very well, then, go on with your story, for I swear to 
you that I will not try to kill Swart Piet because of this 
offence, whatever it may he.” 

So she went on setting out everything exactly as it had 
happened, and before she had finished Ealph was as one 
who is brain sick, for he ground his teeth and stamped 
upon the earth like an angry hull. At last, when Suzanne 
had told him all, she said: 

“ Now, Ealph, you will understand why I would not 
let you kiss me before you had heard my story. It was 
because I feared that after hearing it you would not wish 
to kiss me any more.” 

“ You talk like a foolish girl,” he answered, taking her 
into his arms and embracing her, “ and though the insult 
can only he washed away in blood, I think no more of it 
than if some beast had splashed mud into your face, which 
you had washed away at the next stream.” 

“ Ah!” she cried, “you swore that you would not try 
to kill him for this offence.” 

“ Yes, sweet, I swore, and I will keep my oath. This 
time I will not try to kill Swart Piet.” 

Then they went into the house, and Ealph' spoke to Jan 
about this matter, of which indeed I had already told him 
something. Jan also was very angry, and said that if he 
could meet Piet van Vooren it would go hard with him. 
Afterwards he added, however, that this Piet was a very 
dangerous man, and one whom it might be well to leave 
alone, especially as Suzanne had taken no real hurt from 
him. Nowadays, and here in Natal, such a villain could he 


87 


made to answer to the law, either for attempting the life of 
the Kaffir, or for the assault upon the girl, or for both, hut 
in those times it was different. Then the Transkei had hut 
few white people in it living far apart, nor was there any 
law to speak of; indeed each man did what was right in 
his own eyes, according to the good or evil that was in his 
heart. Therefore it was not well to make a deadly enemy 
of one who was restrained by the fear of neither God nor 
man, and who had great wealth and power, since it might 
come about that he would work murder in revenge or 
raise the Kaffirs on us, as he who had authority among 
them could do very easily. Indeed as will be seen he did 
both these things, or tried to do them. 

When his anger had cooled a little Jan spoke to us in 
this sense and we women agreed with him, hut Ralph who 
was young, fearless, and full of rage, set his mouth and 
said nothing. 

As for Sihamba Jan wished to send her away, hut Su- 
zanne, who had grown fond of her, begged him that he 
would not do so, at least until he had spoken with her. So 
he ordered one of the slaves to fetch her and presently the 
little woman came, and having saluted him^ati herself down 
on the floor of the sitting room after the Kaffir fashion. 
She was a strange little creature to see in her fur kaross 
and head broidered girdle, but for a native she was very 
clean and pretty with her wise woman’s face set upon a 
body that had it been less rounded might almost have been 
that of a child. Also she had adorned herself with great 
care, not in the cast-off clothes of white people but after 
her own manner, for her wavy hair which stood out from 
her head was powdered over with that sparkling blue dust 
which the Kaffir women use, and round her neck she wore 
a single string of large blue beads. 


88 


At first Jan spoke to her crossly, saying: 

“ Yon have brought trouble and disgrace upon my 
house, Sihamba, and I wish you to begone from it.” 

“ It is true,” she answered, “ but not of my own will 
did I bring the trouble, 0 Father of Swallow,” for so 
she always called Jan. Indeed, for Sihamba, Suzanne was 
the centre of all things, and thus in her mouth the three 
of us had no other names than “ Father ” or “ Mother ” 
or “ Lover ” of Swallow. 

“ That may be so,” answered J an, “ but, doubtless. 
Black Piet, who hates you, will follow you here, and then 
we shall be called upon to defend you, and there will be 
more trouble.” 

“ It is not I whom Black Piet will follow,” she replied, 
“ for he has stolen all I have, and as my life is safe there 
is nothing more to get from me,” and she looked at 
Suzanne. 

“What do you mean, Sihamba? Speak plain words,” 
said Jan. 

“ I mean,” she answered, “ that it is not I who am now 
in danger, but my mistress, the Swallow, for he who has 
kissed her once will wish to kiss her again.” 

Now at this Ralph cursed the name of Swart Piet aloud, 
and Jan answered, 

“ It is a bullet from my roer that he shall kiss if he tries 
it, that I swear.” 

“ I hope it may be so,” said Sihamba; “ yet, Father of 
Swallow, I pray you send me not away from her who 
bought me at a great price, and to whom my life belongs. 
Look; I cost you but little to keep, and that little I can 
earn by doctoring your horses and cattle, in which art I 
have some skill, as you know well. Moreover I have many 
eyes and ears that can see and hear things to which yours 


89 


are deaf and blind, and 1 tell yon that I think a time will 
come when I shall he able to do service to all of yon who 
are of the nest of the Swallow. Now, if she bids me to 
go I will go, for am I not her servant to obey, yet I beseech 
yon do not so command her.” 

Sihamba had risen as she spoke, and now she stood be- 
fore Jan, her head thrown back looking np into his eyes 
with such strange power, that though he was great and 
strong and had no will to it, yet he found himself forced 
to look down into hers. More, as he told me afterwards, 
he saw many things in the eyes of Sihamba, or it may be 
that he thought that he saw them, for Jan was always 
somewhat superstitious. At least this is true that more 
than once during the terrible after years, when some great 
event had happened to us he would cry out, “ I have seen 
this place, or thing, before, I know not where.” Then if 
I bade him think he would answer, “ Now I remember; it 
was in the eyes of Sihamba that I saw it, yonder in the 
Transkei before Ealph and Suzanne were married.” 

Presently she freed his eyes and turned her head, 
whereon he grew pale and swayed as though he were about 
to fall. Eecovering himself, however, he said shortly. 

“ Stay if you will, Sihamba; you are welcome for so long 
as it shall please you.” 

She lifted her little hand and saluted him and I noticed 
that it was after another fashion to that of the Kaffirs who 
lived thereabouts, after the Zulu fashion indeed. 

“ I hear your words, chief,” she said, “ and I stay. 
Though I be but as a lizard in the thatch, yet the nest 
of the Swallow shall be my nest, and in the fangs of the 
lizard, Sihamba, there is poison and woe to the hawk of 
the air or the snake of the grass that would rob this nest 
wherein you dwell. Cold shall this heart be and stiff this 


90 


hand, empty shall this head he of thought and these eyes 
of sight, before shame or death shall touch the swift wings 
of yonder Swallow who stained her breast for me. Re- 
member this always, you whom she loves, that while I live, 
I, Sihamba Ngenyanga, Sihamba the walker by moonlight, 
she shall live, and if she dies I will die also.” 

Then once more she saluted and went, leaving us won- 
dering, for we saw that this woman was not altogether as 
other Kaffirs are and it came into our minds that in the 
time of need she would be as is a sharp spear in the hand 
of one who is beset with foes. 

That night as we lay abed I talked with Jan, saying: 

“ Husband, I think there are clouds upon our sky, which 
for many years has been so blue. Trouble gathers round 
us because of the beauty of Suzanne, and I fear Swart Piet, 
for he is not a man to be stopped by a trifle. How, Ralph 
loves Suzanne and Suzanne loves Ralph, and, though they 
are young, they are man and woman full grown, able to 
keep a house and bear its burdens. Why then should they 
not marry with as little delay as may be, for when once 
they are wed Van Yooren will cease from troubling them, 
knowing his suit to be hopeless.” 

“ As you will, wife, as you will,” J an answered some- 
what sharply, “but I doubt if we shall get rid of our 
dangers thus, for with you I think that the tide of our 
lives has turned, and that it sets towards sorrow. Ay,” 
he went on, sitting up in the bed, “ and I will tell you 
when it turned; it turned upon the day that you lied to 
the Englishmen.” 


CHAPTER XI 


A FIGHT AND A SHOT 

Early the next morning I sought for Ralph to speak 
to him on the matter of his marriage, which, to tell truth, 
I longed to see safely accomplished. But I could not find 
him anywhere, or learn where he had gone, though one of 
the slaves told me that they had seen him mount his horse 
at the stable. 

I went down to the cattle kraal to look if he were there, 
and as I returned, I saw Sihamba seated by the door of ‘ 
her hut engaged in combing her hair and powdering it 
with the shining blue dust. 

“ Greeting, Mother of Swallow,” she said. “ Whom do 
you seek? ” 

“ You know well,” I answered. 

“ Yes, I know well. At the break of dawn he rode over 
yonder rise.” 

“Why?” I asked. 

“’How can I tell why? But Swart Piet lives out 
yonder.” 

“Had he his gun with him?” I asked again and 
anxiously. 

“ Ho, there was nothing but a sjambock, a very thick 
sjambock, in his hand.” 

Then I went back to the house with a heavy heart, for I 

91 


92 


was sure that Ralph had gone to seek Piet van Vooren, 
though I said nothing of it to the others. So it proved 
indeed. Ralph had sworn to Snzanne that he would not 
try to kill Piet, hut here his oath ended, and therefore he 
felt himself free to heat him if he could find him, for he 
was altogether mad with hate of the man. Now he knew 
that when he was at home it was Swart Piet’s habit to ride 
of a morning, accompanied by one Kaffir only, to visit a 
certain valley where he kept a large number of sheep. 
Thither Ralph made his way, and when he reached the 
place he saw that, although it was time for them to be 
feeding, the sheep were still in their kraal, baa-ing, stamp- 
ing and trying to climb the gate, for they were hungry to 
get at the green grass. 

“ So,” thought Ralph, “ Swart Piet means to count the 
flock out himself this morning. He will be here 
presently.” 

Half an hour afterwards he came, and with him the one 
Kaffir as was usual. Then the bars of the gate were let 
down, and the sheep suffered to escape through them, 
Swart Piet standing upon one side and the Kaffir upon 
the other, to take tale of their number. When all the 
sheep were out, and one of the herds had been brought 
before him and beaten by the Kaffir, because some lambs 
were missing, Swart Piet turned to ride homewards, and 
in a little gorge near by came face to face with Ralph, 
who was waiting for him. Now he started and looked to 
see if he could escape, but there was no way of doing it 
without shame, so he rode forward and bid Ralph good- 
day boldly, asking him if he had ever seen a finer flock of 
sheep. 

“ I did not come here to talk of sheep,” answered Ralph, 
eyeing him. 


“ Is it of a lamb, then, that yon come to talk, Heer 
Kenzie, a ewe lamb, the only one of yonr flock? ” sneered 
Piet, for he had a gun in his hand and he saw that Ralph 
had none. 

“ Aye,” said Ralph, “ it is of a white ewe lamb whose 
fleece has been soiled by a bastard thief who would have 
stolen her,” and he looked at him. 

“ I understand,” said Piet coldly, for he was a bold man; 
“ and now, Heer Kenzie, you had best let me ride by.” 

“ Why should I let you ride by when I have come out 
to seek you? ” 

“ For a very good reason, Heer Kenzie; because I have 
a gun in my hand and you have none, and if you do not 
clear the road presently it may go off.” 

“ A good reason, indeed,” said Ralph, “ and one of 
which I admit the weight,” and he drew to one side of 
the path as though to let Piet pass, which he began to do 
holding the muzzle of the gun in a line with the other’s 
head. Ralph sat upon his horse staring moodily at the 
ground, as though he was trying to make up his mind to 
say something or other, but all the time he was watching 
out of the corner of his quick eye. J ust as Swart Piet drew 
past him, and was shaking the reins to put his horse to a 
canter, Ralph slid from the saddle, and springing upon 
him like light, he slipped his strong arm round him and 
dragged him backwards to the ground over the crupper of 
the horse. As Piet fell he stretched out his hands to grip 
the saddle and save himself, so that the gun which he car- 
ried resting on his knees dropped upon the grass. Ralph 
seized it and fired it into the air; then he turned to face 
his enemy, who by this time had found his feet. 

“ Now we are more equally matched, myn Heer van 
Yooren,” he said, “and can talk further about that ewe 


94 


lamb, the only one of the flock. Nay, you need not look 
for the Kaffir to help you, for he has run after your horse, 
and at the best he will hardly care to trust himself between 
two angry white men. Come, let us talk, myn Heer.” 

Black Piet made no answer, so for a while the two stood 
facing each other, and they were a strange pair, as different 
as the light from the darkness. Ralph fair-haired, grey- 
eyed, stern-faced, with thin nostrils, that quivered like 
those of a well-bred horse, narrow-flanked, broad-chested, 
though somewhat slight of limb and body, for he was 
but young, and had scarcely come to a man’s weight, but 
lithe and wiry as a tiger. Piet taller and more massive, 
for he had the age of him by five years, with round Kaffir 
eyes, black and cruel, coarse black hair that grew low upon 
his brow, full red lips, the lower drooping so that the large 
white teeth and a line of gums could be seen within. 
G-reat-limbed he was also, firm-footed and bull-strengthed, 
showing in his face the cruelty and the cunning of a black 
race, mingled with the mind and mastery of the white; an 
evil and a terrible man, knowing no lord save his own pas- 
sions, and no religion but black witchcraft and vile super- 
stition; a foe to be feared indeed, but one who loved better 
to stab in the dark than to strike in the open day. 

“ Well, myn Heer van Vooren,” mocked Ralph, “you 
could fling your arms about a helpless girl and put her 
to shame before the eyes of men, now do the same by me 
if you can,” and he took one step towards him. 

“What is this monkey’s, chatter?” asked Piet, in his 
slow voice. “ Is it because I gave the girl a kiss that you 
would fix a quarrel upon me? Have you not done as much 
yourself many times, and for a less stake than the life of 
one who has been doomed to die.” 

“ If I have kissed her,” answered Ralph, “ it is with her 


93 


consent, and because she will be my wife; but you worked 
upon her pity to put her to shame and now you shall pay 
the price of it. Do you see that whip ? ” and he nodded 
toward the sjambock that was lying on the grass. “Let 
him who proves the best man use it upon the other.” 

“ Will be your wife ” sneered Piet, “ the wife of the 

never shall, unless she cares to wed a carcase cut into rim- 
never shall, unless she cares to wed a carcass cut into rim- 
pis. You want a flogging, and you shall have it, yes 

to the death, but Suzanne shall be not your wife 

but ” 

He got no further, for at that moment Ralph sprang at 
him like a wild cat, stopping his foul mouth with a fearful 
blow upon the lips. Then there followed a dreadful 
struggle between these two; Swart Piet rushed again and 
again, striving to clasp his antagonist in his great arms 
and crush him, wdiereas Ralph, who, like all Englishmen 
loved to use his fists, and knew that he was no match for 
Piet in strength, sought to avoid him and plant blow after 
blow upon his face and body. This, indeed, he did with 
such success that soon the Boer was covered with blood 
and bruises. Again and again he charged at him, roaring 
with pain and rage, and again and again Ralph first struck 
and then slipped to one side. 

At length Piet’s turn came, for Ralph in leaping back 
caught his foot against a stone and stumbled, and before 
he could recover himself the iron arms were round his 
middle, and they were wrestling for the mastery. 

Still, at the first it was Ralph who had the best of it, 
for he was skilful at the game, and before Swart Piet 
could put out his full strength he tripped him so that he 
fell heavily upon his back, Ralph still locked in his arms. 
But he could not keep him there for the Boer was the 


95 


stronger, moreover, as they fought they had worked their 
way up the steep side of the kloof so that the ground was 
against him. Thus it came about that soon they began 
to roll down hill fixed to each other as though by ropes, 
and gathering speed at every turn. Doubtless, the end of 
this would have been Ralph’s defeat, and perhaps his 
death, for I think that furious as he was. Black Piet would 
certainly have killed him had he found himself the master. 
But it chanced that his hand was stayed, and thus. Near 
the bottom of the slope lay a sharp stone and as they rolled 
in their fierce struggle, Piet’s head struck against this 
stone so that for a few moments he was rendered helpless. 
Feeling the grip of his arms lessen, Ralph freed himself, 
and running to the sjambock snatched it from the ground. 
Now Piet sat up and stared at him stupidly, hut he made 
no effort to renew the fight, whereon Ralph gasped: 

“ I promised you a flogging, hut since it is chance that 
has conquered you more than I, I will take no advantage 

of it, save this ” and he struck him once or twice across 

the face with the whip, hut not so as to draw blood, and 
added: “ Now, at least, I am free from a certain promise 
that I made — that I would not kill you — and should you 
attempt further harm or insult towards Suzanne Botmar, 
kill you I will, Piet van Vooren.” 

At first Swart Piet did not seem to feel the blows, but 
presently he awoke, as it were, and touched his cheeks 
where the sjambock had struck him as though to assure 
himself that he was not dreaming some evil dream. Then 
he spoke in a hollow, unnatural voice. “You have won 
for this time, Ralph Kenzie,” he said, “ or, rather, Fate 
fighting for you has won. But it would have been better 
for you and your dear also, if you had never struck those 
blows, for I tell you, Ralph Nenzie, that as your whip 


97 

touched me something broke in my brain, and now I think 
that I am mad.” 

“ Mad or had, it is all one to me,” replied Ralph. “ You 
have had your warning, and you had best keep sane enough 
to remember it.” Then turning he went to his horse, 
which was standing close by, mounted and rode away, 
the other answering him nothing. 

Still Ralph did not get home without another adven- 
ture, for when he had gone a little way he came to a stream 
that ran from a hillside which was thick with trees, and 
here he stopped to doctor his hurts and bruises, since he 
did not wish to appear at the house covered with blood. 
Now this was a foolish enough thing to do, seeing the sort 
of man with whom he had to deal, and that there was hush 
where anyone could hide to within a hundred and twenty 
yards of his washing place. So it proved indeed, for just 
as Ralph had mounted his horse and was about to ride on, 
he felt a sharp stinging pain across his shoulders, as 
though someone had hit him on the hack with a stick, and 
heard the sound of a gunshot fired from the cover of the 
bush, for there above the green leaves hung a cloud of 
smoke. 

“ That is Swart Piet who has crept round to cut me off,” 
Ralph thought to himself, and for a moment was minded 
to ride to the smoke to seek him. Then he remembered 
that he had no gun, and that that of his enemy might be 
loaded again before he found him, and judged it wisest to 
canter into the open plain and so homewards. Of the 
hurt that he had taken from the bullet he thought little, 
yet when he reached the house it was seen that his escape 
had been narrow indeed, for the great ball had cut through 
his clothes beneath his shoulders, so that they hung down, 
leaving his back naked. Also it had furrowed the skin, 


98 


causing the blood to flow copiously, and making so hor- 
rible a sight of him that Suzanne nearly fainted when she 
saw it. For my part I made certain that the lad was shot 
through the body, although as it turned out, in a week, 
except for some soreness he was as well as ever. 

Now this matter caused no little stir among us, and Jan 
was so angry, that without saying a word to anyone, he 
mounted his horse and taking some armed servants with 
him, set out to seek Black Piet, but not to find him, for 
the man had gone, nobody knew whither. Indeed this was 
as well, or so we thought at the time, for though Jan is 
slow to move, when once he is moved he is a very angry 
man, and I am sure that if he had met Piet van Vooren 
that day the grasses would have been richer by the blood 
of one or. both of them. But he did not meet him and so 
the thing passed over, for afterwards we remembered that 
Ralph had been the aggressor since no one would take 
count of this story of the kissing of a girl, and also that 
there was no proof at all that it was Piet who had at- 
tempted his life, as that shot might have been fired by 
any one. 

Now from this day forward Suzanne went in terror of 
Swart Piet, and whenever Ralph rode, he rode armed, for 
though it was said that he had gone on one of his long 
journeys trading among the Kaffirs, both of them guessed 
that they had not seen the last of Yan Yooren. Jan and 
I were afraid also, for we knew the terrible nature of the 
man and of his father before him, and that they came of 
a family which never forgot a quarrel or left a desire 
ungratified. 

About fourteen days after Ralph had been shot at and 
wounded, a Kaffir brought a letter for Jan, which, on 
being opened, proved to have been written by Swart Piet, 


99 


or on his behalf, since his name was set at the bottom of 
it. It read thns: — 

“ To the Heer Jan Botmar. 

“ Well-beloved Heer, this is to tell you that your daugh- 
ter, Suzanne, holds my heart, and that I desire to make 
her my wife. As it is not convenient for me to come to 
see you at present, I write to ask you that you will consent 
to our betrothal. I will make a rich woman of her as I 
can easily satisfy you, and you will find it better to have 
me as a dear son-in-law and friend than as a stranger and 
an enem}', for I am a good friend and a bad enemy. I 
know there has been some talk of love between Suzanne 
and the English foundling at your place; but I can over- 
look that, although you may tell the lad that if lie is im- 
pertinent to me again as he was the other day, he will not 
for the second time get off with a whipping only. Be so 
good as to give your answer to the bearer, who will pass it 
on to those that can find me, for I am travelling about on 
business, and do not know where I shall be from day to 
day. Give also my love to Suzanne, your daughter, and 
tell her that I think often of the time when she shall be 
my wife. 

“ I am well-beloved Heer, your friend, 

“Piet van Vooren.” 

How, when Ealph had finished reading this letter aloud, 
for it had been given to him as the best scholar among us, 
you might have thought there were four crazy people in 
the room, so great was our rage. J an and Ealph said little 
indeed, though they looked white and strange with anger, 
and Suzanne not over much, for it was I who talked for 
all of them. 


100 


“ What is your answer, girl ? ” asked her father presently 
with an angry langh. 

“ Tell the Heer Piet van Vooren, she replied smiling 
faintly, “ that if ever his lips should touch my face again 
it will he only when that face is cold in death. Oh! 
Ralph, ” she cried, turning to him suddenly and laying 
her hand upon his breast, “ it may he that this man will 
bring trouble and separation on us; indeed, my heart 
warns me of it, hut, whatever chances, remember my 
words, dead I may . be, but faithful I shall he — yes, to 
death and through death.” 

“ Son, take pen and write,” said J an before Ralph could 
answer. So Ralph wrote down these words as Jan told 
them to him: 

“Piet van Vooren, 

“ Sooner would I lay my only child out for burial in 
the grave than lead her to the house of a coloured man, 
a consorter with witch-doctors and black women and a 
would-be murderer. That is my answer, and I add this 
to it. Set no foot within a mile of my house, for here we 
shoot straighter than you do, and if we find you on this 
place, by the help of God we will put a bullet through 
your carcase.” 

At the foot of this writing, which he would not suffer 
to be altered, Jan printed his name in big letters; then he 
went out to seek the messenger, whom he found talking 
to Sihamba, and having given him the paper bade him 
begone swiftly to wherever it was he came from. The 
man, who was a strong red-coloured savage, marked with 
a white scar across the left cheek, and naked except for 
his mooch and the kaross rolled up upon his shoulders, 
took the letter, hid it in his bundle, and went. 


101 


Jan also turned to go, but I who had followed him and 
was watching him, although he did not know it, saw him 
hesitate and stop. 

“ Sihamba,” he said, “ why were you talking to that 
man ? ” 

“ Because it is my business to know of things, Father 
of Swallow, and I wished to learn whence he came.” 

“ Did he tell you then? ” 

“ N ot altogether, for someone whom he fears had laid a 
weight upon his tongue, but I learned that he lives at a 
kraal far away in the mountains, and that this kraal is 
owned by a white man who keeps wives and cattle at it,, 
although he is not there himself just now. The rest I 
hope to hear when Swart Piet sends him back again, for 
I have given the man a medicine to cure his child, who 
is sick, and he will be grateful to me.” 

“ How do you know that Swart Piet sent the man ? ” 
asked Jan. 

She laughed and said: “ Surely that was easy to guess; 
it is my business to twine little threads into a rope.” 

Again Jan turned to go and again came back to speak 
to her. 

“ Sihamba,” he said, “ I have seen you talking to that 
man before. I remember the scar upon his face.” 

“ The scar upon his face you may remember,” she an- 
swered, “but you have not seen us talking together, for 
until this hour we never met.” 

“I can swear it,” he said angrily. “I remember the 
straw hut, the shape of the man’s bundle, the line where 
the shadow fell upon his foot, and the tic-bird that came 
and sat near you. I remember it all.” 

“ Surely, Father of Swallow,” Sihamba replied, eyeing 
him oddly, “ you talk of what you have just seen.” 


102 


“ No, no,” he said, “ I saw it years ago.” 

“ Where?” she asked, staring at him. 

He started and nttered some qnick words. “ I know 
now,” he said. “ I saw it in yonr eyes the other day.” 

“Yes,” she answered qnietly, “I think that, if any- 
where, yon saw it in my eyes, since the coming of this 
messenger is the first of all the great things that are to 
happen to the Swallow and to those who live in her nest. 
I do not know the things; still, it may happen that another 
who has vision may see them in the glass of my eyes.” 


CHAPTER XII 


WHAT THE COW SHOWED ZINTI 

Twelve days passed, and one morning when I went out 
to feed the chickens, I saw the red Kaffir with the scar on 
his face seated beyond the stoep taking snuff. 

“What is it?” I asked. 

“ A letter,” he answered, giving me a paper. 

I took it into the house, where the others were gathered 
for breakfast, and as before Ralph read it. It was to this 
effect: 

“ Well-beloved Heer Botmar, — I have received your 
honoured letter, and I think that the unchristian spirit 
which it shows cannot be pleasing to our Lord. Still, as 
I seek peace and not war, I take no offence, nor shall I 
come near your place to provoke the shedding of the 
blood of men. I love your daughter, but if she rejects me 
for another, I have nothing more to say, except that I hope 
she may be happy in the life she has chosen. For me, I 
am leaving this part of the country, and if you, Heer Bot- 
mar, like to buy my farm, I shall be happy to sell it to you 
at a fair price; or perhaps the Heer Kenzie will buy it to 
live on after he is married; if so, he can write to me by this 
messenger. Farewell.” 

How, when they heard this letter, the others looked 
more happy; but for my part I shook my head, seeing 
guile in it, since the tone of it was too humble for Swart 

103 


104 


Piet. There was no answer to it, and the messenger went 
away, bnt not, as I learned, before he had seen Sihamba. 
It seems that the medicine which she gave him had cured 
his child, for which he was so grateful that he drove her 
down a cow in payment, a fine beast, but very wild, for 
handling was strange to it; moreover, it had been but just 
separated from its calf. Still, although she questioned 
him closely, the man would tell Sihamba but little of the 
place where he lived, and nothing of the road to it. 

Here I will stop to show how great was the cunning of 
this woman, and yet how simple the means whereby she 
obtained the most of her knowledge. She desired to learn 
about this hiding-place, since she was sure that it was one 
of the secret haunts of Swart Piet, but when she asked 
him the messenger grew deaf and blind, and she could 
find no one else who knew anything of the matter. Still 
she was certain that the cow which had been brought to 
her would show the way to its home, if there were anybody 
to follow it thither and make report of the path. 

How when Sihamba had been robbed and sentenced to 
death by Swart Piet, the most of her servants and people 
who lived with her had been taken by him as slaves. Still 
two or three had escaped, either then or afterwards, and 
settled about in the neighbourhood of the farm where they 
knew that their mistress dwelt. From among these people, 
who still did her service, she chose a young man named 
Zinti, who, although he was supposed to be stupid, was 
still very clever about many things, especially the remem- 
bering of any path that he had once trodden, and of every 
kopje, stream, or pan by which it could be traced. This 
youth she bade to herd the cow which had been given her, 
telling him to follow it “whithersoever it should wander, 
even if it led him a ten days 5 journey, and when he saw 


105 


that it had reached home, to return himself without being 
seen, and to give to her an exact report of the road which 
it had travelled. 

Now all happened as Sihamba expected, for on the first 
day that the cow was turned out, watched by the lad, who 
was provided with food and a blanket, so soon as it had 
filled itself it started straight over the hills, running at 
times, and at times stopping to graze, till night came on. 
Then it lay down for a while and its herd beside it, for he 
had tied his wrist to its tail with a rimpi lest it should 
escape in the darkness. 

At the first breaking of the light the cow rose, filled 
itself with grass and started forward on its homeward path, 
followed by Zinti. For three days they travelled thus, the 
herd milking the cow from time to time when its udder 
was full. On the evening of the third day, however, the 
beast would not lie down, but walked forward all night, 
lowing now and again, by which Zinti, who found it diffi- 
cult to keep it in sight because of the darkness, guessed 
that it must be near its home. So it proved indeed, for 
when the sun rose Zinti saw a kraal before him hidden 
away in a secret valley of the mountains over which they 
had been travelling. Still following the cow, though at a 
distance, he moved down towards the kraal and hid him- 
self in a patch of bush. Presently the cattle were let out 
to graze, and the cow rushed to them lowing loudly, till 
a certain calf came to it, which it made much of and 
suckled, for it was its own calf. 

Now Zintks errand was done, but still he lay hid in the 
bush a while, thinking that he might learn some more, 
and lying thus he fell asleep, for he was weary with travel. 
When he woke the sun was high, and he heard women talk- 
ing to each other close by him, as they laboured at their 


106 


task of cutting wands, such as are used for the making of 
huts. He rose to run away, then thought better of it and 
sat down again, remembering that should he be found, it 
would be easy to tell them that he was a wanderer who 
had lost his path. Presently one of the women asked: 

“ For whom does Bull-Head build this fine new hut in 
the secret krantz yonder?” 

How Zinti opened his ears wide, for he knew that this 
was the name which the natives had given to Swart Piet, 
taking it from his round head and fierce eye, according to 
their custom when they note any peculiarity in a man. 

“ I do not know,” answered a second woman, who was 
young and very pretty, “ unless he means to bring another 
wife here; if so, she must be a chiefs daughter, since men 
do not build such huts for girls of common blood.” 

“ Perhaps,” said the other; “but when I think that he has 
stolen her from her father without payment: else he would 
not wish to hide her away in the secret krantz. Well, let 
her come, for we women must work hard here where there 
are so few men, and many hoes clean a field quickly.” 

“ For my part I think there are enough of us already,” 
said the young girl, looking troubled, for she was Swart 
Piet’s last Kaffir wife, and did not desire to be supplanted 
by a new favourite. “ But be silent, I hear Bull-Head 
coming on his horse,” and she began to work very hard at 
cutting the wands. 

A few minutes later Zinti saw Swart Piet himself ride 
up to the women, who saluted him, calling him “ Chief ” 
and “ Husband.” 

“ You are idle,” he said, eyeing them angrily. 

“ These wands are tough to cut, husband,” murmured 
the young woman in excuse. 

“ Still you must cut them quicker, girl,” he answered. 


107 


“ if you would not learn how one of them feels upon your 
back. It will go hard with all of you if the big hut is not 
finished in seven days from now.” 

“We will do our best,” said the girl, “but who is to 
dwell in the hut when it is done ? ” 

“ Not you, be sure of that,” he answered, roughly, “ nor 
any black woman, for I am weary of you, one and all. 
Listen: I go to-morrow with my servants to fetch a chief - 
tainess, a white lady, to rule over you, but if any of you 
speak a word of her presence here you will pay for it, for I 
shall turn you away to starve. Do you understand? ” 

“ We hear you, husband,” they replied, somewhat sul- 
lenly, for now the yunderstood that this new wife would 
be a mistress, and not a sister to them. 

“ Then be careful that you do not forget my words, and 
— hearken — so soon as you have cut a full load of hut- 
poles, let two of you carry them up to the krantz yonder, 
where they are wanted, but be careful that no one sees you 
going in or coming out.” 

“We hear you, husband,” they said again, whereon 
Swart Piet turned and rode away. 

Now, although Zinti was said to be foolish, chiefly as 
I think, because he could not, or would not, work, yet in 
many ways he was cleverer than most Kaffirs, and espe- 
cially always did he desire to see new places, the more so 
if they chanced to be secret places. Therefore, when he 
heard Swart Piet command the women to carry the rods 
to the hidden krantz, he determined that he would follow 
them, and this he did so skilfully that they neither heard 
nor saw him. At first he wondered whither they could be 
going, for they walked straight to the foot of what seemed 
to be an unclimbable wall of rock more than a hundred 
feet high. On the face of this rock, however, shrubs grew 


108 


here and there like the bristles on the back of a hog, and 
having first glanced round to see that no one was watching 
them, the women climbed to one of these shrubs, which 
was rooted in the cliff about the height of a man above 
the level of the ground, and vanished so quickly that Zinti, 
who was watching, rubbed his eyes in wonder. After 
waiting a while, however, he followed in their steps to find 
that behind the shrub was a narrow cleft or crack such as 
are often to be seen in cliffs, and that down this cleft ran 
a pathway which twisted and turned in the rock, growing 
broader as it went, till at last it ended in the hidden 
krantz. This krantz was a very beautiful spot about three 
morgen, or six English acres, in extent, and walled all 
round with impassable cliffs. Down the face of one of 
these cliffs fell a waterfall forming a deep pool, out of 
which a stream ran, and on the banks of this stream the 
new hut was being built in such a position that the heat 
of the sun could strike it but little. 

While he was taking note of these and other things Zinti 
saw some of those who were working at the hut leave it 
and start to walk towards the cleft. So having learnt 
everything that he could he thought that it was time to 
go, and slipped away back to the bush, and thence home- 
wards by the road which the cow had shown him. 

Now, it chanced that as he went Zinti pierced his foot 
with a large thorn so that he was only able to travel slowly. 
On the fifth night of his journey he limped into a wood to 
sleep, which wood grew not much more than two hours on 
horseback from our farm. When he had been asleep for 
some hours he woke up, for all his food was done, and he 
could not rest well because of his hunger, and was aston- 
ished to see the light of a fire among the trees at some 
distance from him. Towards this fire he crept, thinking 


109 


that there were herds or travellers who would give him 
food, hut when he came to it he did not ask for any, since 
the first thing he saw was Swart Piet himself walking up 
and down in front of the fire, while at some distance from 
it lay a number of his men asleep in their karosses. Pres- 
ently another man appeared slipping through the tree 
trunks, and coming to Swart Piet saluted him. 

“ Tell me what you have found out,” he said. 

“ This, Baas,” answered the man; “ I went down to Heer 
Botmar’s place and begged a bowlful of meal there, pre- 
tending that I w'as a stranger on a journey to court a girl 
at a distant kraal. The slaves gave me meal and some 
flesh with it, and I learned in talk with them that the Heer 
Botmar, his vrouw, his daughter Suzanne and the young 
Englishman, Heer Kenzie, all rode away yesterday to the 
christening party of the first-born of the Heer Roozen, 
who lives about five hours on horseback to the north yon- 
der. I learned also that it is arranged for them to leave 
the Heer Roozen to-morrow at dawn, and to travel home- 
wards by the Tiger’s Nek, in which they will off-saddle 
about two hours before mid-day, for I forgot to say that 
they have two servants with them to see to their horses.” 

“ That makes six in all,” said Swart Piet, “ of whom 
two are women, whereas we are twenty. Yes, it is very 
good, nothing could he better, for I know the off-saddling 
place by the stream in Tiger’s Nek, and it is a nice place 
for men to hide behind the rocks and trees. Listen now 
to the plan, and he sure you understand it. When these 
people are off-saddled and eating their food, you Kaffirs 
will fall on them — with the spear and the kerry alone, 
mind — and they will come to their end.” 

“Does the master mean that we are to kill them?” 
asked the man doubtfully. 


110 


“ Yes,” answered Swart Piet, with some hesitation. “ I 
do not want to kill them indeed, bnt I see no other way, 
except as regards the girl, of course, who must be saved. 
These people are to be attacked and robbed by Kaffirs, for 
it must never be known that I had a hand in it, and yon 
brutes of Kaffirs always kill. Therefore, they must die, 
alas! especially the Englishman, though so far as I am 
concerned I should be glad to spare the others if I could, 
but it cannot be done without throwing suspicion upon me. 
As for the girl, if she is harmed the lives of all of you pay 
for it. You will throw a kaross over her head, and bring 
her to the place which. I will tell you of to-morrow, where I 
shall come upon you with some men and seem to rescue 
her. Do you understand, and do you think the plan good!” 

“I understand, and I think the plan good — for you — * 
and yet, Baas, there is one thing that I have not told you 
which may mar it.” 

“ What is it? ” 

“ This: When I was down there at the Heer Botmar’s 
place, I saw the witch-doctoress Sihamba, who has a hut 
upon the farm. I was some way off, but I think that she 
recognised mle, as she well might do seeing that it was I who 
set the rope about her neck when you wished to hang her. 
Now if she did know me all your plans may be in vain, 
for that woman has the Sight and she will guess them. 
Even when the cord was round her she laughed at me 
and told me that I should die soon, but that she would 
live for years, and therefore I fear her more than anyone 
living.” 

“ She laughed at you, did she,” said Swart Piet; “ well, 
I laugh at her, for neither she nor anyone who breathes 
shall stand between me and this girl, who has preferred 
the suit of another man to mine.” 


Ill 


“ All, master! ” said the Kaffir, with admiration, “you 
are a great one, for when a fruit pleases you, you do not 
wait for it to drop into your lap, you pluck it.” 

“ Yes,” said Swart Piet, striking his breast with pride, 
if I desire a fruit I pluck it as my father did before me. 
But now go you and sleep, for to-morrow you will need 
all your wit and strength.” 

When the herd Zinti had heard this talk he crept away, 
heading straight for the farm, but his foot was so had, 
and he was so weak from want of food, that he could only 
travel at the pace of a lame ox, now hopping upon one leg 
and now crawling upon his knees. In this fashion it was 
that at length, about half-past eight in the morning, he 
reached the house, or rather the hut of Sihamba, for she 
had sent him out, and therefore to her, after the Kaffir 
fashion, he went to make report. Now, when he came to 
Sihamba, he greeted her and asked for a little food, which 
she gave him. Then he began to tell his story, beginning 
as natives do at the first of it, which in his case were all 
the wanderings of the cow" which he had followed, so that 
although she hurried him much, many minutes went by 
before he came to that part of the tale wdiich told of what 
he had heard in the wood some eight hours before. So 
soon as he began to speak of this, Sihamba stopped him, 
and calling to a man who lingered near, she bade him 
bring to her Jan’s famous young horse, the roan schimmel, 
bridled but not saddled. Now this horse w r as the finest in 
the vffiole district, for his sire was the famous blood stal- 
lion which the Government imported from England, vffiere 
it won all the races, and his dam the swiftest and most 
enduring mare in the breeding herds at the Paarl. What 
Jan gave for him as a yearling I never learned, because 


112 


he was afraid to tell me; but I know that we were short 
of money for two years after he bought him. Yet in the 
end that schimmel proved the cheapest thing for which 
ever a man paid gold. 

Well, the Kaffir hesitated, for, as might be guessed, Jan 
was very proud of this horse, and none rode it save himself, 
but Sihamba sprang up and spoke to him so fiercely that 
at last he obeyed her, since, although she was small in 
stature all feared the magic of Sihamba, and would do her 
bidding. Kor had he far to go, for the schimmel did not 
run wild upon the veldt, but was fed and kept in a stable, 
where a slave groomed him every morning. Thus it came 
about that before Zinti had finished his tale, the horse was 
standing before Sihamba bridled but not saddled, arching 
his neck and striking the ground with his hoof, for he was 
proud and full of corn and eager to be away. 

“ Oh! fool,” said Sihamba to Zinti, “why did not you 
begin with this part of your story? How, to save five 
from death and one from dishonour, there is but a short 
hour left and twenty long miles to cover in it. Ho! man, 
help me to mount this horse.” 

The slave put down his hand, and setting her foot in it, 
the little woman sprang on to the back of the great stal- 
lion, which knew and loved her as a dog might do, for she 
had tended it day and night when it was ill from the sick- 
ness we call “thick head,” and without doubt had saved 
its life by her skill. Then, gripping its shoulders with 
her knees, Sihamba shook the reins and called aloud to 
the schimmel, waving the black rod she always carried in 
her hand, so that the fiery beast, having plunged once, 
leapt away like an antelope, and in another minute was 
nothing but a speck racing towards the mountains. 


CHAPTER XIII 


THE SCHIMMEL’S FIRST RACE 

So hard did Sihamba ride, and so swift and untiring 
proved the horse, to whose strength her light weight was 
as nothing, that, the veldt over which they travelled being 
flat and free from stones or holes, she reached the mouth 
of Tiger’s Nek, twenty miles away, in very few minutes 
over the hour of time. But the Nek itself was a mile or 
more in length, and for aught she knew we might already 
he taken in Black Piet’s trap, and she riding to share our 
fate. Still she did not stay, hut though it panted like a 
blacksmith’s bellows, and its feet stumbled with weariness 
among the stones in the Nek, she urged on the schimmel 
at a gallop. Now she turned the corner, and the off-sad- 
dling place was before her. Swiftly and fearfully Sihamba 
glanced around, but seeing no signs of us, she uttered a 
cry of joy and shook the reins, for she knew that she had 
not ridden in vain. Then a voice from the rocks called 
out: 

“ It is the witch-doctoress, Sihamba, who rides to warn 
them. Kill her swiftly.” With the voice came a sound 
of guns and of bullets screaming past her, one of which 
shattered the wand she carried in her hand, numbing her 
arm. Nor was that all, for men sprang up across the 
further end of the off-saddling place, where the path was 

118 


114 


narrow, to bar her way, and they held spears in their 
hands. But Sihamba never heeded the men or the spears, 
for she rode straight at them and through them, and so 
soon was she gone that, although six or seven assegais were 
hurled at her, only one of them struck the horse, wounding 
it slightly in the shoulder. 

A few minutes later, three perhaps, or five, just as the 
four of us with our Kaffir servants were riding quietly up 
to the mouth of the Nek, we saw a great horse thundering 
towards us, black with sweat and flecked with foam, its 
shoulder bloody, its eyes staring, its red nostrils agape, 
and perched upon its bare back a little woman who swayed 
from side to side as though with weariness, holding in her 
hand a shattered wand. 

“ Allemachter! ” cried Jan. “ It is Sihamba, and the 
witch rides my roan schimmel!” 

By this time Sihamba herself was upon us. “ Back,” 
she screamed as she came, “ death waits you in the pass,” 
whereon, compelled to it as it were by the weight of the 
words and the face of her who spoke them, we turned our 
horses’ heads and galloped after the schimmel for the 
half of a mile or more till we were safe in the open 
veldt. 

Then of a sudden the horse stopped, whether of its own 
accord or because its rider pulled upon the reins I know 
not. At the least it stood there trembling like a reed and 
Sihamba lay upon its back clinging to the mane, and as 
she lay I saw blood running down her legs, for her skin 
was chafed to the flesh beneath. Ralph sprang to her and 
lifted her to the ground and Suzanne made her take a 
draught of peach brandy from Jan’s flask, which brought 
the life into her face again. 

“Now,” she said, “If you have it to spare, give the 


115 


schimmel yonder a drink of that stuff, for he has saved all 
your lives and I think he needs it.” 

“ That is a wise word,” said Jan, and he hade . Ralph and 
the Kaffirs pour the rest of the spirit down the horse’s 
throat, which they did, thereby, as I believe, saving its 
life, for until it had swallowed it the beast looked as 
though its heart were about to hurst. 

“ Now,” said Jan, “ wthy do you ride my best horse to 
death in this fashion?” 

“ Have I not told you, father of Swallow,” she answered, 
“ that it was to save you from death? But a few minutes 
over an hour ago, fifteen perhaps, a word was spoken to me 
at your stead yonder and now I am here, seven leagues 
away, having ridden faster than I wish to ride again, or 
than any other horse in this country can travel with a man 
upon his hack.” 

“ To save us from death! What death?” asked Jan 
astounded. 

“ Death at the hands of Swart Piet and his Kaffir tribes- 
men for the three of you and the two slaves, and for the 
fourth, the lady Swallow here, a love which she does not 
seek, the love of the murderer of her father, her mother, 
and her chosen.” 

Now we stared at each other; only Suzanne ran to 
Sihamha, and putting her arms about her, she kissed 
her. 

“ Nay,” said the little woman smiling, “ nay, Swallow, I 
do hut repay to you one-hundredth part of my debt, and all 
the rest is owing still.” 

Then she told her story in few words, and when it was 
done, having first looked to see that Swart Piet and his 
men were not coming, at the bidding of Jan we all knelt 
down upon the veldt and thanked the Almighty for our 


lie 


deliverance. Only Sihamba did not kneel, for she was a 
heathen, and worshipped no one unless it were Suzanne. 

“ Yon should pray to the horse, too,” she said, “ for had 
it not been for its legs, I could never have reached you in 
time.” 

“ Peace, Sihamba,” I answered, “ it is God who made 
the horse’s legs, as God put it into your mind to use 
them; ” but I said no more, though at any other time I 
should have rated her well for her heathen folly. 

Then we consulted together as to what was to be done 
and decided to make our way to the house by a longer 
path which ran through the open veldt, since we were sure 
that there, where is no cover, Swart Piet would not attack 
us. Ralph, it is true, was for going into the Nek and at- 
tacking him, but, as J an showed him, such an act would be 
madness, for they were many and we were few; moreover, 
they could have picked us off from behind the shelter of 
the rocks. So we settled to leave him alone, and that night 
came home safely, though not without trouble, for we 
carried Sihamba the most of the way, and after he grew 
stiff the schimmel could only travel at a walking pace. 
A ery soon that horse recovered, however, for he was a good 
feeder, and lived to do still greater service, although for a 
while his legs were somewhat puffed and had to be poul- 
ticed with cabbage leaves. 

Now Jan and Ralph were mad against Swart Piet, and 
would have brought him to justice. But this road of jus- 
tice was full of stones and mud-holes, since the nearest 
land-drost, as we call a magistrate, lived a hundred miles 
off, and it would not have been easy to persuade Piet to 
appear and argue the case before him. Moreover, here 
again we had no evidence against the man except that of a 
simple black fellow, who would never have been believed. 


117 


for, in fact, no attack was made npon ns, while that npon 
Sihamba might very well have been the work of some of 
the low Kaffirs that hannt the kloofs, runaway slaves, and 
other rascals who desired to steal the fine horse npon which 
she rode. Also we learned that onr enemy, acting through 
some agent, had sold his farm to a stranger for a small 
sum of ready money, giving it out that he had no need of 
land, as he was leaving this part of the country. 

But if we saw Piet’s face no more, we could still feel the 
weight of his hand, since from that time forward we began 
to suffer from thefts of cattle and other troubles with the 
natives, which — so Sihamba learned in her underground 
fashion — were instigated by him, working through his 
savage tools, while he himself lay hidden far away and in 
safety. Also he did us another ill turn — for it was proved 
that his money was at the bottom of it — by causing Ralph 
to he commandeered to serve on some distant Kaffir expe- 
dition, out of which trouble we were obliged to buy him,, 
and at no small cost. 

All these matters weighed upon us much, so much, in- 
deed, that I wished Jan to trek far away and found a new 
home; hut he would not, for he loved the place which he 
had built up brick by brick, and planted tree by tree; nor 
would he consent to be driven out of it through fear of the 
wicked practices of Swart Piet. To one thing he did con- 
sent, however, and it was that Ralph and Suzanne should 
he married as soon as possible, for he saw that until they 
were man and wife there would he little peace for any of 
us. When they were spoken to on the matter, neither of 
them had anything to say against this plan; indeed, I be- 
lieve that in their hearts, for the first and last time in 
their lives, they blessed the name of Black Piet, whose 
evil-doing, as they thought, was hurrying, on their happi- 


118 


ness. Now it was settled that the matter of this marriage 
should he kept secret for fear it should come to the ears 
of Van Yooren through his spies, and stir him up to make 
a last attempt to steal away Suzanne. And, indeed, it did 
come to his ears, though how to this hour I do not know, 
unless, in spite of our warning, the predicant who was to 
perform the ceremony, a good and easy man hut one who 
loved gossip, blabbed of it on his journey to the farm, for 
he had a two days’ ride to reach it. 

It was the wish of all of us that we should continue to 
live together after the marriage of Ralph and Suzanne, 
though not beneath the same roof. Indeed, there would 
have been no room for another married pair in that house, 
especially if children came to them, nor did I wish to share 
the rule of a dwelling with my own daughter after she 
had taken a husband, for such arrangements often end in 
bitterness and quarrels. Therefore Jan determined to 
build them a new house in a convenient spot not far away, 
and it was agreed that during the two or three months while 
this house was building Ralph and his wife should pay a 
visit to a cousin of mine, who owned a very fine farm on 
the outskirts of the dorp which we used to visit from time 
tc time to partake of Nachtmahl* This seemed wise to us 
dor several reasons beyond that of the building of the new 
house. It is always best that young people should begin 
their married life alone, as by nature they wish to do, and 
not under the eyes of those who have bred and nurtured 
them, for thus face to face, with none to turn to, they grow 
more quickly accustomed to each other’s faults and weak- 
nesses, which, perhaps, they have not learned or taken 
count of before. 

Moreover, in the case of Ralph and Suzanne we thought 
* That is, Holy Communion. 


119 


it safer that they should be absent for a while from their 
own district and the neighbouriiood of Swart Piet, living 
in a peopled place where they could not be molested, al- 
though, not knowing the wickedness of his heart, we did 
not believe it possible that he ivould molest them when 
once they were married. Indeed, there was some talk of 
their going to the dorp for the wedding, and I wish that 
they had done so, for then much trouble might have been 
spared to us. But their minds were set against this plan, 
for they desired to be married where they had met and 
lived so long, so we did not gainsay them. 

At length came the eve of the wedding day and with it 
the predicant, who arrived hungry and thirsty but running 
over with smiles and blessings. That night we all supped 
together and were full of joy, nor were Ralph. and Suzanne 
the least joyous of us, though they said little, but sat gazing 
at each other across the table as though the moon had 
struck them. 

Before I went to bed I had occasion to go out of the 
% house, for I remembered that some linen which Suzanne 
was to take with her had been left drying upon bushes after 
the wash, and I feared that if it remained there the Kaffir 
women might steal it. This linen was spread at a little 
distance from the house, near the huts where Sihamba lived, 
but I took no lantern with me, for the moon was bright. 

As I drew near the spot I thought that I heard a sound 
of chanting which seemed to come from a little circle of 
mimosa trees that grew a spear’s throw to my left, of chant- 
ing very low and sweet. Wondering who it was that sung 
thus, and she sang — for the voice was that of a woman 
— I crept to the nearest of the trees, keeping in its shadow, 
and peeped through the branches into the grassy space 
beyond, to perceive Sihamba crouched in the centre of the 


120 


circle. She was seated upon a low stone in such fashion 
that her head and face shone strangely in the moonlight, 
while her body was hidden in the shadow. Before her, 
placed upon another stone, stood a large wooden bowl, 
such as the Kaffirs cut out of the trunk of a tree, spending 
a month of labour, or more, upon the task, and into this 
howl, which I could see was filled with water, for it re- 
flected the moonrays, she was gazing earnestly, and as she 
gazed chanting that low, melancholy song whereof I could 
not understand the meaning. 

Presently Sihamha ceased her singing, and turning from 
the howl as though she had seen in it something that 
frightened her, she covered her eyes with her hands and 
groaned aloud, muttering words in which the name of 
Suzanne was mixed up, or of Swallow, as she called her. 
Now r I guessed that Sihamha was practising that magic of 
which she was said to be so great a mistress, although she 
denied always that she knew anything of the art. At 
first I made up my mind to call to her to cease from such 
wickedness, which, as the Holy Book tell us, is a sin in the 
-eyes of the Lord, and a cause of damnation to those who 
practise it. But I was curious and longed greatly in my 
heart to know wffiat it was that Sihamha saw in the howl, 
and what it had to do with my daughter Suzanne. So I 
changed my mind, thereby making myself a partaker of 
the sin, and coming forward said instead: 

“ What is it that you do here by night, in this solitary 
place, Sihamha? ” 

Kow although, as I suppose, she had neither seen nor 
heard me, for I came up from behind her, she did not start 
or cry out as any other woman would have done; she did 
not even turn to look at me as she answered in a clear and 
steady voice: 


121 


“ Now while she is still a girl I read the fate of Swallow 
and of those who love her according to my lore, 0, mother 
of Swallow. Look, I read it there.” 

1 looked and saw that the large howl was filled to the 
brim with pure water. At the bottom of it lay some white 
sand, and on the sand were placed five pieces of broken 
looking-glass, all of which had been filed carefully to a 
round shape. The largest of these pieces was of the size 
of a crown of English money. This lay in the exact centre 
of the bowl. Above it and almost touching its edge, was 
another piece of the size of a half-crown, then to the right 
and left at a little distance, two more pieces of the size of a 
shilling, and below, but some way off where the bowl began 
to curve, a very small piece not larger than a six-penny 
bit. 

“ Swallow,” said Sihamba, pointing to the two largest of 
the fragments, “ and husband of Swallow. There to the 
right and left father and mother of Swallow, and here at 
her feet, a long way off and very small, Sihamba, servant 
of Swallow, made all of them from the broken glass that 
shows back the face, which she gave me, and set, as they 
must be set, like the stars in the Cross of the Skies.” 

Now I shivered a little, for in myself I was afraid of this 
woman’s magic, but to her I laughed and said roughly: 

“What fool’s plaything is this made of bits of broken 
glass that you have here, Sihamba?” 

“ It is a plaything that will tell a story to those who can 
read it,” she answered without anger, but like one who 
knows she speaks the truth. 

“ Make it tell its story to me, and I will believe you,” I 
said laughing again. 

She shook her head and answered, “ Lady, I cannot, for 
you have not the Sight; but bring your husband here. 


122 


and perhaps he will be able to read the story, or some 
of it.” 

Now at this I grew angry, for it is not pleasant to a 
woman to hear that a man whom all know to be but as a 
fool compared to her can see things in water which she is 
not able to see, even though the things are born only of the 
false magic of a witch-doctoress. Still, as at that moment 
I chanced to hear Jan seeking me, for he wondered where I 
had gone, I called to him and set out the matter, expecting 
that he would be very angry and dismiss Sihamba, break- 
ing up her magic bowl. But all the while that I talked to 
him the little woman sat, her chin resting upon her hand, 
looking into his face, and I think that she had some power 
over him. At the least, he was not at all angry, although 
he said that I must not mention the business to the predi- 
cant, who was well known to be a prejudiced man. Then 
he asked Sihamba to show him the wonders of the bowl. 
Replying that she would if she might, and always keeping 
her eyes fixed upon his face, she bade him kneel down arid 
look into the water in such fashion that he did not shut 
the moonlight off from it, and to tell us what he saw. 

So he knelt and looked, whispering presently that on the 
midmost piece of glass there appeared the image of Su- 
zanne, and on the others respectively those of Ralph, Jan 
himself, me his wife, and of Sihamba. I asked him what 
they were doing, but he could give me no clear answer, so 
T suppose that they were printed there like the heads on 
pstage stamps, if indeed they existed anywhere except in 
Jan’s brain, into which Sihamba had conjured them. 

“ What do you see more? ” asked Sihamba. 

“ I see a shadow in the water,” he answered, “ a dark 
shadow, and — it is like the head of Swart Piet cut out of 
black paper — it spreads till it almost hides all the faces on 


123 


f 

the bits of glass. Almost, I say, but not quite, for things 
are passing beneath the shadow which I cannot distinguish. 
Now it shrinks quite small, and lies only over your like- 
ness, Sihamba, which shows through it red — yes, and all 
the water round it is red, and now there is nothing left; ” 
and Jan rose pale with fright, and wiped his brow with a 
coloured pocket-handkerchief, muttering “ Allemachter! 
this is magic indeed.” 

“ Let me look,” I said, and I looked for a long while and 
saw nothing except the five hits of glass. So I told Jan 
outright that he was a fool whom any conjurer could play 
with, hut he waited until I had done and then asked Si- 
hamba what the vision meant. 

“ Father of Swallow,” she answered, “ what I saw in the 
water mirror you have seen, only I saw more than you did 
because my sight is keener. You ask me what it means, 
hut I cannot tell you altogether, for such visions are 
uncertain; they sum up the future hut they do not show it 
all. This, however, is sure, that trouble waits us every 
one because of Swart Piet, for his shadow lay thick upon 
the image of each of us; only note this, that while it 
cleared away from the rest, it remained upon mine staining 
it hlood-red, which means that while in the end you will 
escape him, I shall die at his hands, or through him. 
Well, so he it, hut meanwhile this is my counsel — because 
of other things that I saw in the water which I cannot 
describe, for in truth I know not rightly what they were — 
that the marriage of the Swallow and her husband should 
be put off, and that when they are married it should he at 
the dorp yonder, not here.” 

Now when I heard this my anger overflowed like water 
in a boiling pot. “What!” I cried, “when all is settled 
and the predicant has ridden for two days to do the thing, 


124 


is the marriage to be put off because forsooth this little 
black idiot declares that she sees things on bits of glass in 
a bowl, and because you, Jan, who ought to know better, 
take the lie from her lips and make it your own? I say 
that I am mistress here and that I will not allow it. If we 
are to be made fools of in this fashion by the peepings and 
mutterings of Kaffir witch-doctors we had better give up 
and die at once to go and live among the dead, whose 
business it is to peep and mutter. Our business is to dwell 
in the world and to face its troubles and dangers until such 
time as it pleases God to call us out of the world, paying 
no heed to omens and magic and such like sin and folly. 
Let that come which will come, and let us meet it like men 
and women, giving glory to the Almighty for the ill as 
well as for the good, since both ill and good come from His 
hands and are part of His plan. For my part I trust to 
Him who made us and who watches us, and I fear not 
Swart Piet, and therefore chance what may the marriage 
shall go on/’ 

“ Good words,” said J an, “ such as my heart approves 
of;” but he still mopped his head with the coloured pocket- 
handkerchief and looked troubled as he added, “ I pray 
you, wife, say nothing pf this to anybody, and above all to 
the predicant, or he will put me out of the church as a 
wizard.” 

“ Yes, yes,” said Sihamba, “ good words, but the Sight 
is still the Sight for those who have the power to see. Not 
that I wished you to see, indeed I did not wish it, nor did I 
think that you would be turned from your purpose by 
that which you have seen. Father and mother of Swallow, 
you are right, and now I will tell you the truth. What you 
beheld in the water was nothing but a trick, a clever trick 
of the little doctoress, Sihamba, by the help of which and 


125 


others like it, she earns her living, and imposes on the 
foolish, thongh she cannot impose npon you, who are wise, 
and have the Lord of the skies for a friend. So think no 
more of it, and do not he angry with the little black 
monkey whose nature it is to play tricks,” and with a 
motion of her foot she upset the howl of water, and collect- 
ing the pieces of mirror hid them away in her skin pouch. 

Then we went, hut as I passed through the thorn trees 
I turned and looked at Sihamba, and lo! she was standing 
in the moonlight, her face lifted towards the sky, weeping 
softly and wringing her hands. Then for the first time I 
felt a little afraid. 


CHAPTER XIV 


THE WEDDING 

The marriage morning of Ralph and Snzanne broke 
brightly; never have I seen a fairer. It was spring time, 
and the veldt was clothed with the fresh green grass and 
starred everywhere with the lily blooms that sprang among 
it. The wind blew softly, shaking down the dewdrops 
from the growing corn, while from every bnsh and tree 
came the cooing of unnumbered doves. Beneath the eave 
of the stoep the pair of red-breasted swallows which had 
built there for so many years were finishing their nest, and 
I watched them idly, for to me they were old friends, and 
would wheel about my head, touching my cheek with their 
wings. Just then they paused from their task, or perhaps 
it was at length completed, and flying to a bough of the 
peach tree a few yards away, perched there together amidst 
the bright bloom and nestling against each other, twittered 
forth their song of joy and love. 

It was at this moment that Sihamba walked up to the 
stoep as though to speak to me. 

“ The Swallow and the Swallow’s mate,” she said, fol- 
lowing my eyes to where the little creatures swung together 
on the beautiful bough. 

“ Yes,” I answered, for her fancy seemed to me of good 
omen, “ they have built their nest, and now they are thank- 

126 


ing God before they begin to live there together and rear 
their yonng in love.” 

As the words left my lips a quick shadow swept across 
the path of snnlit ground before the house, two strong 
wings beat, and a brown hawk, small but very fierce, being 
of a sort that preys upon little birds, swooped downwards 
upon the swallows. One of them saw it, and slid from the 
bough, but the other hawk caught in its talons, and 
mounted with it high into the air. In vain did its mate 
circle round it swiftly, uttering shrill notes of distress, up 
it went steadily as pitiless as death. 

“ Oh! my swallow,” I cried aloud in grief, “ the accursed 
hawk has carried away my swallow.” 

“ Nay, look,” said Sihamba, pointing upwards. 

I looked, and behold! a black crow that appeared from 
behind the house, was wheeling about the hawk, striking 
at it with its beak until, that it might have its talons free 
to defend itself, it let go the swallow, which, followed by 
its mate, came fluttering to the earth, while the crow and 
the falcon passed away fighting, till they were lost in the 
blue depths of air. 

Springing from the stoep I ran to where the swallow lay, 
but Sihamba was there before me and had it in her hands. 

“ The hawk’s beak has wounded it,” she said pointing to 
a blood stain among the red feathers of the breast, “ but 
none of its bones are broken, and I think that it will live. 
Let us put it in the nest and leave it to its mate and 
nature.” 

This we did, and there in the nest it stayed for some 
days, its mate feeding it with flies as though it were still 
unfledged. After that they vanished, both of them to- 
gether, seeking some new home, nor did they ever build 
again beneath our eaves. 


128 


“ Would you speak with me, Sihamba?” I asked when 
this matter of the swallows was done with. 

“ I would speak with the Baas, or with you, it is the 
same thing,” she answered, “and for this reason. I go 
upon a journey; for myself I have the good black horse 
which the Baas gave me after I had ridden to warn you in 
Tiger Kloof yonder, the one that I cured of sickness. But 
I need another beast to carry pots and food and my servant 
Zinti, who accompanies me. There is the brown mule 
which you use little because he is vicious, hut he is very 
strong and Zinti does not fear him. Will you sell him to 
me for the two cows I earned from the Kaffir whose wife 
I saved when the snake bit her? He is worth three, hut I 
have no more to offer.” 

“Whither do you wish to journey, Sihamba?” I asked. 

“ I follow my mistress to the dorp,” she answered. 

“ Did she hid you follow her, Sihamba? ” 

“ No! is it likely that she would think of me at such a 
time, or care whether I come or go ? Fear not, I shall not 
trouble her, or put her to cost; I shall follow, hut I shall 
not he seen until I am wanted.” 

“ Now I had made up my mind to gainsay Sihamba, not 
that I could find any fault with her plan, hut because of 
such arrangements are made, I like to make them myself, - 
as is the business of the head of the house. I think Si- 
hamba guessed this; at any rate she answered me before I 
spoke, and that in an odd way, namely, by looking first at 
the swallow’s nest, then at the blooming bough of the 
peach tree, and lastly into the far distances of air. 

“ It was the black crow that drove the hawk away,” she • 
said, reflectively, as though she were thinking of something 
else, “ though I think, for my eyes are better than yours, 
that the hawk killed the crow, or perhaps they killed each 


129 


other; at the least I saw them falling to the earth beyond 
the crest of the mountain.” 

At this I was about to break in angrity, for if there was 
one thing in the world I hated it was Sihamba’ s nonsense 
about birds and omens and such things, whereof, indeed, I 
had had enough on the previous night, when she made that 
lump Jan believe that he saw visions in a bowl of water. 
And yet I did not — for the black crow’s sake. The cruel 
hawk had seized the swallow which I loved, and borne it 
away to devour it in its eyrie, and it was the crow that 
saved it. Well, the things that happened among birds 
might happen among men, who also prey upon each other, 
and — hut I could not bear the thought. 

“ Take the mule, Sihamba,” I said; “ I will answer for it 
to the Baas. As for the two cows, they can run with the 
other cattle till your return.” 

“ I thank you, Mother of Swallow,” she answered, and 
turned to go, when I stopped her and asked: 

“ Have you heard anything that makes you afraid, Si- 
hamba? ” 

“ I have heard nothing,” she replied, “ still I am afraid.” 

“ Then you are a fool for your pains, to be afraid of 
nothing,” I answered roughly; “ but watch well, Sihamba.” 

“ Fear not, I will watch till my knees are loosened and 
my eyes grow hollow.” Then she went away, and that was 
the last I saw of her for many a weary month. Ah! Su- 
zanne, child, had it not been for the watching of little 
Sihamba, the walker-by-moonlight, you had not been sit- 
ting there to-day, looking much as she used to look, the 
Suzanne of fifty years ago.” 

The marriage was to take place at noon, and though I 
had much to see to, never have I known a longer morning. 


130 


Why it was I cannot say, but it seemed to me as though 
twelve o’clock would never come. Then, wherever I went 
there was Ralph in my way, wandering about in a senseless 
fashion with his best clothes on, while after him wandered 
Jan holding his new hat in his hand. 

“ In the name of Heaven,” I cried at length as I blun- 
dered into both of them in the kitchen, “ he off out of this. 
Why are you here?” 

“ Allemachter! ” said Jan, . “ because we have nowhere 
else to go. They are making the sitting-room ready for 
the service and the dinner after it; the Predicant is in 
Ralph’s room writing; Suzanne is in yours trying on her 
clothes, and the stoep and even the stables are full of 
Kaffirs. Where, then, shall we go?” 

“ Cannot you see to the waggon? ” I asked. 

“ We have seen to it, mother,” said Ralph; “ it is packed, 
and the oxen are already tied to the yokes for fear lest they 
should stra}^.” 

“ Then be off and sit in it and smoke till I come to call 
you,” I replied, and away they walked shamefacedly 
enough! Ralph first, and Jan following him. 

At twelve o’clock I went for them, and found them 
both seated on the waggon-chest smoking like chimnies, 
and saying nothing. 

“ Come, Ralph,” I said, “ it is quite time for you to he 
married,” and he came, looking very pale, and walking 
unsteadily as though he had. been drinking, while after 
him, as usual, marched J an, still pulling at the pipe which 
ho had forgotten to take out of his mouth. 

Somehow I do not recollect much of the details of that 
wedding; they seemed to have slipped my mind, or per- 
haps they are buried beneath the memories of all that 
followed hard upon it. I remember Suzanne standing 


131 


before the little table, behind which was the Predicant 
with his book. She wore a white dress that fitted her very 
well, but had no veil upon her head after the English 
fashion, which even Boer girls follow nowadays, only in 
her hand she carried a bnnch of rare white flowers that 
Sihamba had gathered for her in a hidden kloof where they 
grew. Her face was somewhat pale, or looked so in the 
dim room, bnt her lips showed red like coral, and her dark 
eyes glowed and shone as she turned them upon the lover 
at her side, the fair-haired, grey-eyed, handsome English 
lad, whose noble blood told its tale in every feature and 
movement, yes, and even in his voice, the man whom she 
had saved from death to be her life-mate. 

A few whispered words, the changing of a ring, and one 
long kiss, and these two, Ralph Kenzie and Suzanne Bot- 
mar, were husband and wife in the eyes of God and man. 
Ah! me, I am glad to think of it, for in the end, of all the 
many marriages that I have known, this proved the very 
best and happiest. 

How I thought that it was done with, for they had 
knelt down and the Predicant had blessed them, but not 
so, for the good man must have his word, and a long word 
it w*as. On and on he preached about the duties of hus- 
bands and wives, and many other matters, till at last, as I 
expected, he came to the children. How I could bear it 
no longer. 

“ That is enough, reverend Sir,” I said, “ for surely it is 
scarcely needful to talk of children to people who have not 
been married five minutes.” 

That pricked the bladder of his discourse, which soon 
came to an end, whereon I called to the Kaffirs to bring in 
dinner. 

The food was good and plentiful, and so was the Hoi- 


132 


lands, or Sqnareface as they call it now, to say nothing of 
the Constantia and peach-brandy which had been sent to 
me many years before by a cousin who lived at Stellen- 
bosch; and yet that meal was not as cheerful as it might 
have been. To begin with, the Predicant was sulky be- 
cause I had cut him short in his address, and a holy man 
in the sulks is a bad kind of animal to deal with. Then 
Jan tried to propose the health of the new married pair 
and could not do it. The words seemed to stick in his 
throat, for at the best Jan never was a speaker. In short, 
he made a fool of himself as usual, and I had to till up 
the gaps in his head. 

Well, I talked nicely enough till in an evil moment I 
overdid it a little by speaking of Ralph as one whom 
Heaven had sent to us, and of whose birth and parents we 
knew nothing. Then Jan found his tongue and said: 
“ Wife, that’s a lie, and you know it,” for, doubtless, the 
Hollands and the peach-brandy had got the better of his 
reason and his manners. I did not answer him at the 
time, for I hate wrangling in public, but afterwards I 
spoke to him on the subject once and for all. Luckily, the 
Predicant took no notice of this incident, for he was think- 
ing about himself as he was too prone to do. 

Then, to make matters worse, Suzanne must needs throw 
her arms round her father’s neck and begin to cry — thanks 
be to my bringing up of her, she knew better than to throw 
them round mine. “ Good Lord! ” I said, losing my 
temper, “what is the girl at now? She has got the hus- 
band for whom she has been craving, and the first thing 
she does is to snivel. Well, if I had done that to my 
husband I should have expected him to box my ears, 
though Heaven knows that I should have had excuse for 
it.” 


133 


Here the Predicant woke up, seeing his chance. 

“ Fran Botmar,” he said, blinking at me like an owl, “ it 
is my duty to reprove your irreverent language even at this 
festive board, for a word must be spoken both in and out 
of season, and without respect of persons. Frau Botmar, I 
fear that you do not remember the Third Commandment, 
therefore I will repeat it to you,” and he did so, speaking* 
very slowly. 

What, I answered I cannot recollect, but even now I 
seem to see that Predicant flying out of the door of the 
room holding his hands above his head. Well, for once he 
met his match, and I know that afterwards he always 
spoke of me with great respect. 

After this again I remember little more till the pair 
started upon their journey. Suzanne asked for Sihamba 
to say good-bye to her, and when she was told that she 
was not to be found she seemed vexed, which shows that 
the little doctoress did her injustice in supposing that just 
because she was married she thought no more of her. Then 
she kissed us all in farewell — ah! we little knew for how 
long that farewell was to be — and went down to the wag- 
gon to which the sixteen black oxen, a beautiful team, 
were inspanned, and standing there ready to start. But 
Ealph and Suzanne were not going to ride in the waggon, 
for they had horses to carry them. At the last moment,, 
indeed, Jan, whose head was still buzzing with the peach- 
brandy, insisted upon giving Ralph the great schimmel, 
that same stallion which Sihamba had ridden when she 
warned us of the ambush in the pass, galloping twenty 
miles in the hour. This shows me that Providence can 
turn even a man’s vices to account, for afterwards the 
schimmel was very useful. 

So there was much kissing and many good-byes; Ralph 


134 


and Suzanne saying that they would soon he back, which 
indeed was the case with one of them, till at last they were 
off, Jan riding with them a little way towards their first 
ontspan by the sea, fourteen miles distant, where they were 
to sleep that night. 

When they had gone I went into my bedroom, and sit- 
ting down, I cried, for I was sorry to lose Suzanne, even for 
a little and for her own good, and my heart was heavy. 
Also my quarrel with the Predicant had put me out of 
temper. When I had got over this fit I set to work to tidy 
Suzanne’s little sleeping place, and that I found a sad task. 
Then Jan returned from the waggon, having hid farewell 
to the young couple, an hour’s trek away, and his head 
being clear by now, we talked over the plans of the new 
house which was to be built for them to live in, and, going 
down to the site of it, set it out with sticks and a rule, 
which gave us occupation till towards sunset, when it was 
dime for him to go to see to the cattle. 

That night we went to bed early, for we were tired, and 
slept a heavy sleep, till at length, about one in the morn- 
ing, we were awakened by the shoutings of the messengers 
who came bearing the terrible news. 


CHAPTER XV. 


RALPH RETURNS INTO THE SEA. 

Ralph and Suzanne reached their ontspan place in 
safety a little before sunset. I used to know the spot well; 
it is where one of the numerous wooded kloofs that scar 
the mountain slopes ends on a grassy plain of turf, short 
hut very sweet. This plain is not much more than five 
hundred paces wide, for it is bordered by the cliff, that 
just here is not very high, against which the sea heats at 
full tide. 

When the oxen had been turned loose to graze, and the 
voorlooper set to watch them, the driver of the waggon un- 
did the cooking vessels and built a fire with dry wood col- 
lected from the kloof. Then Suzanne cooked their simple 
evening meal, of which they partook thankfully. After it 
was done the pair left the waggon and followed the hanks 
of the little kloof stream, which wandered across the plain 
till it reached the cliff, whence it fell in a trickling water- 
fall into the sea. Here they sat down upon the edge of the 
cliff, and locked in each other’s arms, watched the moon 
rise over the silver ocean, their young hearts filled with a 
joy that cannot be told. 

“ The sea is beautiful, is it not, husband?” whispered 
Suzanne into his ear. 

“ To-night it is beautiful,” he answered, “ as our lives 
135 


136 


seem to be; yet I have seen it otherwise,” and he shuddered 
a little. 

She nodded, for she knew of what he was thinking, and 
did not wish to speak of it. “ Neither life nor ocean can 
be always calm,” she said, “ but oh! I love that great water, 
for it brought you to me.” 

“ I pray that it may never separate us,” answered Ealph. 

“ Why do you say that, husband? ” she asked. “ Noth- 
ing can separate us now, for even if you journey far away 
to seek your own people, as sometimes I think you should, 
I shall accompany you. Nothing can separate us except 
death, and death shall but bind us more closely each to 
each for ever and for ever.” 

“ I do not know why I said it, Sweet,” he answered 
uneasily, and just then a little cloud floated over the face 
of the moon, darkening the world, and a cold wind blew 
down the kloof, causing its trees to rustle and chilling 
the pair, so that they clung closer to each other for com- 
fort. 

The cloud and the wind passed away, leaving the night 
as beautiful as before, and they sat on for a while to watch 
it, listening to the music of the waterfall that splashed into 
the deep sea pool below, and to the soft surge of the waves 
as they lapped gently against the narrow beach. 

At length Ealph spoke in a low voice. “ Sweet, it is 
time to sleep,” he said, and kissed her. 

“ It is time,” she whispered back, “ but, husband, first 
let us kneel together here and pray to the Almighty to 
bless our married life and make us happy.” 

“ That is a good thought,” he answered, for in those 
days young men who had been brought up as Christians 
were not ashamed to say their prayers even in the presence 
of others. 


137 


So they knelt down side by side upon the edge of the 
cliff, with their faces set towards the open sea. 

“ Pray for ns both aloud, Ralph,” said Suzanne, “ for 
though my heart is full enough I have no words.” 

So Ralph prayed very simply, saying: “ Oh, God, Who 
madest us, hear us, Thy son and daughter, and bless us. 
This night our married life begins; be Thou with us ever 
in it, and if it should please Thee that we should have 
children, let Thy blessing go with them all their days. 
Oh! God, I thank Thee that Thou didst save me alive from 
the sea and lead the feet of the child wdio is now my 
wife to the place where I was starving, and Suzanne thanks 
Thee that through the whisperings of a dream her feet 
were led thus. Oh! God, as I believe that Thou didst hear 
my prayer when as a lost child I knelt dying on the rock, 
so I believe that Thou dost hear this the first prayer of our 
wedded life. We know that all life is not made up of such 
joy as Thou hast given us this day, but that it has many 
dangers and troubles and losses, therefore we pray Thee to 
comfort us in the troubles, to protect us in the dangers, 
and to give us consolation in the losses; and most of all we 
pray Thee that we who love each other, and whom Thou 
hast joined together, may be allowed to live out our lives 
together, fearing nothing, however great our peril, since 
day and night we walk in the shadow of Thy strength, 
until we pass into its presence.” 

This was Ralph’s prayer, for he told it to me word by 
word afterwards when he lay sick. At the time the answer 
to it seemed to be a strange one, an answer to shake the 
faith out of a man’s heart, and yet it was not lost or 
mocked at, for the true response came in it's season. Nay, 
it came week by week and hour by hour, seeing that every 
day through those awful years the sword of the Strength 


138 


they had implored protected those who prayed, holding 
them harmless in many a desperate peril to reunite them 
at the last. The devil is very strong in this world of ours, or 
so it seems to me, who have known much of his ways, so 
strong that perhaps God must give place to him at times, 
for if He rules in heaven, I think that Satan shares His 
rule on earth. But in the end it is God who wins, and 
never, never, need they fear who acknowledge Him and 
put their faith in Him, trying the while to live uprightly 
and conquer the evil of their hearts. Well, this is only 
an old woman’s wisdom, though it should not he laughed 
at, since it has been taught to her by the experience of a 
long and eventful life. Such as it is I hope that it may 
be of service to those who trust in themselves and not 
in their Maker. 

As the last words of his prayer left Balph’s lips he heard 
a man laugh behind him. The two of them sprang to 
their feet at the sound, and faced about to see Swart Piet 
standing within live paces of them, and with him eight or 
ten of his black ruffians, who looked upon him as their 
chief, and did his needs without question, however wicked 
they might be. 

How Suzanne uttered a low cry of fear and the blood 
froze about Kalph’s heart, for he was unarmed and their 
case was hopeless. Black Piet saw their fear and laughed 
again, for like a cat that has caught a mouse for which 
it has watched long, he could not resist the joy of torture 
before he dealt the death blow. 

“ This is very lucky,” he said, “ and I am glad that I 
have to do with such pious people, since it enabled us to 
creep on you unawares; also I much prefer to have found 
you engaged in prayer, friend Englishman, rather than in 


139 


taking the bloom off my peach with kisses, as I feared 
might be the case. That was a pretty prayer, too; I almost 
felt as though I were in church while I stood listening to 
it. How did it end? You prayed that you might be al- 
lowed to live together, fearing nothing, however great your 
peril, since you walked always in the shadow of God’s 
strength. Well, I have come to answer your petition, and 
to tell you that your life together is ended before it is 
begun. For the rest, your peril is certainly great, and now 
let God’s strength help you if it can. Come, God, show 
Your strength. He does not answer, you see, or perhaps 
He knows that Swart Piet is god here and is afraid.” 

“ Cease your blasphemy,” said Ealph in a hoarse voice, 
“ and tell me what you want with us.” 

“ What do I want ? I want her whose scorn and beauty 
have driven me mad, her for whom I have been seeking 
this long time — Suzanne Botmar.” 

“ She is my wife,” said Ealph; “ would you steal away 
my wife?” 

“ No, friend, for that would not he lawful. I will not 
take your wife, hut I shall take your widow, as will he easy, 
seeing that you are armed with God’s strength only.” 

Now understanding all this man’s devilish purpose, Su- 
zanne fell upon her knees before him, imploring him with 
many piteous words. But knowing that death was at hand 
Ealph’s heart rose to it, as that of a high-couraged man 
will do, and he hade her to cease her supplications and rise. 
Then in a loud, clear voice he spoke in the Kaffir tongue, 
so that those who were with Piet Van Vooren should 
understand him. 

“ It seems, Piet Van Vooren,” he said, “ that you have 
stolen upon us here to carry off my wife by violence after 
you have murdered me. These crimes you may do, though 


140 


I know well that if you do them they will be revenged 
upon you amply, and upon you men also who take part in 
them. And now I will not plead to you for mercy, but I 
ask one thing which you cannot refuse, because those with 
you, Kaffirs though they be, will not suffer it — five short 
minutes of time in which to bid farewell to my new-wed 
wife.” 

“ Not an instant,” said Swart Piet, but at the words the 
black men who were with him, and whose wicked hearts 
were touched with pity, began to murmur so loudly, that 
he hesitated. 

“ At your bidding, Bull-Head,” said one of them, “ we 
have come to kill this man and to carry away the white 
woman, and we will do it, for you are our chief and we 
must obey you. But, if you will not give him the little 
space for which he asks, wherein to bid farewell to his wife 
before she becomes your wife, then we will have nothing 
more to do with the matter. I say that our hearts are 
sick at it already, and, Bull-Head, you kill a man, not a 
dog, and that by murder, not in fair fight.” 

“ As you will, fool,” said Swart Piet. “ Englishman, I 
give you five minutes,” and he drew a large silver watch 
from his pocket and held it in his hand. 

“ Get out of hearing then, murderer,” said Ralph, “ for I 
have no breath left to waste on you,” and Piet obeying 
him, fell back a little and stood gnawing his nails and 
staring at the pair. 

“ Suzanne, wife Suzanne,” whispered Ralph, “ we are 
about to part since, as you see, I must die, and your fate 
lies in the Hand of God. Yes you are made a widow be- 
fore you are a wife, and Suzanne, ah! that is the worst of 
it, another takes you, even my murderer.” 

Now Suzanne, who till this moment had been as one 


141 


stupefied, seemed to gather up her strength and answered 
him calmly, saying: 

“ Truly, husband, things appear to he as you say, though 
what we have done that they should he so, I cannot tell. 
Still comfort yourself, for death comes to all of us soon or 
late, and whether it comes soon or late makes little differ- 
ence in the end, seeing that come it must.” 

“ No, not death, it is your fate that makes the difference. 
How can I hear to die and leave you the prey of that 
devil? Oh my God! my God! how can I hear to die! ” 

“ Have no fear, husband,” went on Suzanne in the same 
clear indifferent voice, “ for you do not leave me to he his 
prey. Say now; if we walk backwards swiftly we might 
fall together before they could catch us into the pit of the 
sea beneath.” 

“ Hay, wife, let our deaths lie upon their heads and not 
upon ours, for self-murder is a crime.” 

“ As you will, Ealph; hut I tell you, and through you I 
tell Him who made me, that it is a crime which I shall 
dare if need he. Have no fear, Ralph, as I leave your 
arms, so shall I return to them, whether it he in Heaven 
or upon earth. That man thinks he has power over me, 
but I say that he has none, seeing that at the last God will 
protect me wfith His hand, or with my own.” 

“ I cannot blame you, Suzanne, for there are some things 
which are not to be borne. Do therefore as your con- 
science teaches you, if you have the means.” 

“ I have the means, Ralph. Hidden about me is a little 
knife which I have carried since I was a child; and if that 
fails me there are other ways.” 

“ Time is done,” said Swart Piet, replacing the watch in 
his pocket. 

“ Farewell, sweet,” whispered Ralph. 


142 


“Farewell, husband,” she answered bravely, “until we 
meet again, whether it he here on earth or above in 
Heaven; farewell until we meet again,” and she flung her 
arms about his neck and kissed him. 

For a moment Ealph clung to her muttering some bless- 
ing above her bowed head; then he unloosed her clasping 
arms, letting her fall gently upon the ground and saying: 
“ Lie thus, shutting your ears and hiding your eyes till 
all is done. Afterwards you must act as seems best to you. 
Escape to your father if you can, if not — tell me, do you 
understand? ” 

“ I understand,” she murmured, and hid her face in a 
tuft of thick grass, placing her hands upon her ears. 

Ralph bowed his head for an instant in prayer. Then 
he lifted it and there was no fear upon his face. 

“ Come on, murderer,” he said, addressing Swart Piet, 
“ and do your butcher’s work. Why do you delay? You 
cannot often find the joy of slaughtering a defenceless man 
in the presence of his new-made wife. Come on then and 
win the everlasting curse of God.” 

How Swart Piet glanced at him out of the corners of 
his round eyes; then he ordered one of the Kaffirs to go up 
to him and shoot him. 

The man went up and lifted his gun, hut presently he 
put it down again and walked away, saying that he could 
not do this deed. Thrice did Yan Yooren issue his com- 
mand, and to three separate men, the vilest of his flock, 
hut with each of them it was the same; they came up lift- 
ing their guns, looked into Ralph’s grey eyes and slunk 
away muttering. Then, cursing and swearing in his mad 
fury, Swart Piet drew the pistol from his belt and rushing 
towards Ralph fired it into him so that he fell. He stood 
over him and look at him, the smoking pistol in his hand, 


143 


but the wide grey eyes remained open and the strong 
mouth still smiled. 

“ The dog lives yet/" raved Swart Piet, “ cast him into 
the sea, and let the sea finish him.” 

But no man stirred; all stood silent as though they had 
been cut in stone, and there, a little nearer the cliff edge, 
lay the silent form of Suzanne. 

Then Van Yooren seized Ralph and dragged him by the 
shoulders to the brink of the precipice. His hair brushed 
the hair of Suzanne as his body was trailed along the 
ground, and as he passed he whispered one word, “ Remem- 
ber,” into her ear, and she raised her head to look at him 
and answered, “ Now, and always.” Then she let her head 
fall again. 

Stooping down, Swart Piet lifted Ralph in his great 
arms, and crying aloud: “ Return into the sea out of which 
you came,” he hurled him over the edge of the cliff. Two 
seconds later the sound of a heavy splash echoed up its 
sides, then, save for the murmur of the waterfall and the 
surge of the surf upon the beach, all was still again. 


CHAPTEK XYI 


HOW RALPH CAME BACK TO THE STEAD 

For a few moments Swart Piet and his black ruffians 
stood staring now at each other and now over the edge of 
the cliff into the deep sea-hole. There, however, they 
could see nothing, for the moonbeams did not reach its 
surface, and the only sound they heard was that of the 
dripping of the little waterfall, which came to their ears 
like the tinkle of distant sheep-hells. Then Swart Piet 
shivered and laughed aloud, a laugh that had more of fear 
than of merriment in it. 

“ The Englishman called down the everlasting curse of 
God on me,” he cried. “ Well, I have waited for it, and it 
does not come, so now for man’s reward,” and going to 
where Suzanne lay, he set his arms beneath her and turned 
her over upon her hack. “ She has swooned,” he said; 
“ perhaps it is as well,” and he stood looking at her, for 
thus in her faint she seemed wonderfully fair with the 
moonbeams playing upon her deathlike face. 

“ He had good taste, that Englishman,” went on Swart 
Piet. “ Well, now our account is squared; he has sown 
and I shall harvest. Follow me, you black fellows, for we 
had best he off,” and, stooping down he lifted Suzanne in 
his arms and walked away with her as though she were a 
child. For a while they followed the windings of the 
144 


145 


stream, keeping under cover of the reeds and bushes that 
grew upon its banks. Then they struck out to the right, 
taking advantage of a cloud which dimmed the face of the 
moon for a time, for they wished to reach the kloof without 
being seen from the waggon. Nor, indeed, were they seen, 
for the driver and voorlooper were seated by the cooking- 
tire on its further side, smoking and dozing as they smoked. 
Only the great thoroughbred horse winded them and 
snorted, pulling at the rein with which he was tied to the 
hind wheel of the waggon. 

“ Something has frightened the schimmel,” said the 
driver waking up. 

“ It is nothing/’ answered the other hoy drowsily; “ he 
is not used to the veldt, he who always sleeps in a house 
like a man; or, perhaps, he smells a hyena in the kloof.” 

“ I thought I heard a sound like that of a gun a while 
ago down yonder by the sea,” said the driver again. “ Say, 
brother, shall we go and find what made it ? ” 

“ By no means,” answered the voorlooper, who did not 
like walking about at night, fearing lest he should meet 
spooks. “I have been wide awake and listening all this 
time, and I heard no gun; nor, indeed, do people go out 
shooting at night. Also it is our business to watch here by 
the waggon till our master and mistress return.” 

“ Where can they have gone?” said the driver who felt 
frightened he knew not why. “ It is strange that they 
should be so long away when it is time for them to 
sleep.” 

“Who can account for the ways of white people?” an- 
swered the other, shrugging his shoulders. “Very often 
they sit up all night. Doubtless these two will return 
when they are tired, or perhaps they desire to sleep in the 
veldt. At any rate it is not our duty to interfere with 


146 


them, seeing that they can come to no harm here where 
there are neither men nor tigers.” 

“ So he it,” said the driver, and they both dozed oft again 
till the messenger of ill came to ronse them. 

Now Black Piet and his men crept np the kloof carrying 
Snzanne with them, till they came to a little patch of rocky 
ground at the head of it where they had left their horses. 

“ That was very well managed,” said Piet as they loosed 
them and tightened their girths, “ and none can ever know 
that w r e have made this journey. To-morrow the bride 
and bridegroom will he missed, hut the sea has the one 
and I have the other, and hunt as they may they will never 
find her, nor guess where she has gone. No, it will he 
remembered that they walked down to the sea, and folk 
will think that by chance they fell from the cliff into the 
deep water and vanished there. Yes, it was well managed 
and none can guess the truth.” 

Now the man to whom he spoke, that same man with 
whom the hoy Zinti had heard him plot our murder in the 
Tiger Kloof, shrugged his shoulders and answered: 

“ I think there is one who will guess.” 

“ Who is that, fool? ” 

“ She about whose neck once I set a rope at your bid- 
ding, Bull Head, and whose life was bought by those lips,” 
and he pointed to Suzanne, “ Sihamba Ngenyanga.” 

“Why should she guess?” asked Piet angrily. 

“Has she not done so before? Think of the great 
schimmel and its rider in Tiger Kloof. Moreover, what 
does her name mean? Does it not mean Wanderer-by- 
moonlight, and was not this great deed of yours, a deed 
at the telling of which all who hear of it shall grow sick 
end silent, done in the moonlight, Bull Head? ” 


147 


Now as we learned afterwards from a man whom Jan 
took prisoner, and who told ns everything that passed that 
night, hoping to bny his life, Piet made no answer to this 
saying, hut turned to busy himself with his saddle, for he 
was always afraid of Sihamba, and would never mention 
her name unless he was obliged. Soon the horses, most 
of which were small and of the Basuto breed, were ready 
to start. On one of the best of them was a soft pad of 
sheepskins, such as girls used to ride on when I was young, 
before we knew anything about these new-fangled English 
saddles with leather hooks to hold the rider in her place. 
On this pad, which had been prepared for her, they set Su- 
zanne, having first tied her feet together loosely with a 
riem so that she might not slip to the ground and attempt 
to escape by running. Moreover, as she was still in a 
swoon, they supported her, Black Piet walking upon one 
side and a Kaffir upon the other. In this fashion they 
travelled for the half of an hour or more, until they were 
deep in among the mountains, indeed, when suddenly with 
a little sigh Suzanne awoke, and glanced about her with 
wide, frightened eyes. Then memory came back to her, 
and she understood, and, opening her lips, she uttered one 
shriek so piercing and dreadful that the rocks of the hills 
multiplied and echoed it, and the blood went cold even in 
the hearts of those savage men. 

“ Suzanne,” said Swart Piet in a low, hoarse voice, “ I 
have dared much to win you, and I wish to treat you 
kindly, but if you cry out again, for my own safety’s sake 
and that of those with me, we must gag you.” 

She made no answer to him, nor did she speak at all 
except one word, and that word “Murderer.” Then she 
closed her eyes as though to shut out the sight of his face, 
and sat silent, saying nothing and doing nothing, even 


148 


when Piet and the other man who supported her had 
mounted and pushed their horses to a gallop, leading that 
on which she rode by a riem. 

Now it might be thought after receiving a pistol bullet 
tired into him at a distance of four paces, and being cast 
down through fifty feet of space into a pool of the sea, 
that there was an end of Ralph Kenzie for ever on this 
earth. But thanks to the mercy of God this was not so, 
for the ball had but shattered his left shoulder, touching 
no vital part, and the water into which he fell was deep, 
so that, striking against no rock, he rose presently to the 
surface, and the pool being but narrow, was able to swim 
to one side of it where the beach shelved. Up that beach 
Ralph could not climb, however, for he was faint with loss 
of blood and shock. Indeed, his senses left him while he 
was in the water, but it chanced that he fell forward and 
not backward, so that his head rested upon the shelving 
edge of the pool, all the rest of his body being beneath its 
surface. Lying thus, had the tide been rising, he would 
speedily have drowned, but it had turned, and so, the water 
being warm, he took no further harm. 

Now Sihamba did not leave the stead till some hours 
after Ralph and his bride had trekked away. She knew 
where they would outspan, and as she did not wish that 
they should see her yet, or until they were too far upon 
their journey to send her back, it was her plan to reach the 
spot, or rather a hiding-place in the kloof within a stone’s 
throw of it, after they had gone to rest. So it came 
about that at the time when Ralph and Suzanne were sur- 
prised by Swart Piet, Sihamba was riding along quietly 
upon the horse which Jan had given her, accompanied by 
the lad Zinti, perched upon the strong brown mule in the 


149 


midst of cooking pots, bags of meal, biltong, and rolls of 
blankets. Already, half a mile off or more, she could see 
the cap of the waggon gleaming white in the moonlight, 
when suddenly away to the left they heard the sound of a 
pistol shot. 

“Now who shoots in this lonely place at night?” said 
Sihamba to Zinti. “ Had the sound come from the wag- 
gon yonder I should think that someone had fired to scare 
a hungry jackal, but all is quiet at the waggon, and the 
servants of Swallow are there, for, look, the fire burns.” 

“ I know not, lady,” answered Zinti, for Sihamba was 
given the title of Chief tainess among the natives who knew 
something of her birth, “ but I am sure that the sound was 
made by powder.” 

“ Let us go and see,” said Sihamba turning her horse. 

For a while they rode on towards the place whence they 
had heard the shot, till suddenly, when they were near the 
cliff and in a little fold of ground beyond the ridge of 
which ran the stream, Sihamba stopped and whispered, 
“ Be silent, I hear voices.” Then she slipped from her 
horse and crept like a snake up the slope of the rise until 
she reached its crest, where at this spot stood two tufts of 
last season’s grass, for no fires had swept the veldt. From 
between these tufts, so well hidden herself that unless-ffhey 
had stepped upon her body, none could have discovered 
her, she saw a strange sight. 

There beneath her, within a few paces indeed, for the 
ground sloped steeply to the stream, men were passing. 
The first of these was white, and he carried a white woman 
in his arms; the rest were Kaffirs, some of whom wore 
karosses or cotton blankets, and some tattered soldiers’ 1 
coats and trousers, while all were well armed with “ roers ’ r 
or other guns, and had powder flasks hung about their 


150 


necks. Sihamba knew at once that the white man was 
Swart Piet, and the woman in his arms her mistress, 
Suzanne. She conld have told it from her shape alone, 
but as it happened, her head hung down, and the moon- 
light shone upon her face so brightly that she could see 
its every feature. Her blood boiled in her as she looked, 
for now she understood that her fears were just, and that 
the Swallow whom she loved above everything in the world, 
had fallen into the power of the man she hated. At first 
she was minded to follow, and if might be, to rescue her. 
Then she remembered the pistol-shot, and remembered 
also that this new-made wife would have been with her 
husband and no other. Where, then, was he now? With- 
out doubt, murdered by Bull Head. If so, it was little 
use to look for him, and yet something in her heart told 
her to look. 

At that moment she might not help Suzanne, for what 
-could one woman and a Kaffir youth do against so many 
men? Moreover, she knew whither Van Yooren would 
take her, and could follow there, but first she must learn 
for certain what had been the fate of the Baas Ralph her 
husband. So Sihamba lay still beneath the two tufts of 
grass until the last of the men had passed in silence, glanc- 
ing about them sullenly as though they feared vengeance 
for a crime. Then, having noted that they were heading 
for the kloof, she went back to where Zinti stood in the 
hollow holding the horse with one hand and the mule 
with the other, and beckoned him to follow her. 

Very soon, tracing the spoor backwards, they reached 
the edge of the cliff just where the waterfall fell over it 
into the sea pool. Here she searched about, noting this 
thing and that, till at last all grew clear to her. Yonder 
Suzanne had lain, for the impress of her shape could still 


151 


be seen upon the grass. And there a man had been 
stretched out, for his blood stained the ground. More, he 
had been dragged to the edge of the cliff, for this was the 
track of his body and the spoor of his murderer’s feet. 
Look how his heels had sunk into the turf as he took the 
weight of the corpse in his arms to hurl it over the edge. 

“ Tie the horse and the mule together, Zinti,” she said, 
“ and let us find a path down this precipice.” 

The lad obeyed wondering, though he too guessed much 
of what had happened, and after a little search they found 
a place by which they could descend. Now Sihamba ran 
to the pool and stood upon its brink scanning the surface 
with her eyes, till at length she glanced downwards, and 
there, almost at her feet, three parts of his body yet hidden 
in the water, lay the man she sought. 

Swiftly she sprang to him, and, aided by Zinti, dragged 
him to dry ground. 

“Alas! lady,” moaned the Kaffir, “it is of no use, the 
Baas is dead. Look, he has been shot.” 

Taking no heed of the words, Sihamba opened Ralph’s 
garments, placing first her hand, then her ear, upon his 
heart. Presently she lifted her head, a light of hope 
shining in her eyes, and said: 

“ Nay, he lives, and we have found him in time. More- 
over, his wound is not to death. Now help me, for between 
us we must bear him up the cliff.” 

So Zinti took him on his back as a man takes a sack of 
flour, while Sihamba supported his legs, and thus between 
them, with great toil, for the way was very steep, they 
carried him by a sloping buck’s path to the top of the 
precipice, and laid him upon the mule. 

“Which way now?” gasped Zinti, for being strong he 
had borne the weight. 


152 


“ To the waggon if they have not stolen it,” said Si- 
hamba, and thither they went. 

When they were near she crept forward, searching for 
Swart Piet and his gang, but there were no signs of them, 
only she saw the driver and his companion nodding by the 
fire. She walked up to them. 

“ Do you then sleep, servants of Kenzie,” she said, 

while the Swallow is borne away to the Hawk’s Nest and 
the husband of Swallow, your master, is cast by Bull Head 
back into the sea whence he came ? ” 

Now the men woke up and knew her. “ Look, it is 
Sihamba,” stammered one of them to the other, for he was 
frightened. “ What evil thing has happened, Lady Si- 
hamba? ” 

“ I have told you, hut your ears are shut. Come then 
and see with your eyes,” and she led them to where Ralph 
lay in his blood, the water yet dripping from his hair 
and clothes. 

“ Alas! he is dead,” they groaned and wrung their hands. 

“ He is not dead, he will live, for while you slept I found 
him,” she answered. “ Swift now, bring me the waggon 
box that is full of clothes, and the blankets off the cartel.” 

They obeyed her, and very quickly and gently — for of all 
doctors Sihamba was the best — with their help she drew 
off his wet garments, and, having dried him and dressed 
his wounds with strips of linen, she put a flannel shirt 
upon him and wrapped him in blankets. Then she poured 
brandy into his mouth, but, although the spirit brought a 
little colour into his pale face, it did not awaken him, for 
his swoon was deep. 

“ Lay him on the cartel in the waggon,” she said, and, 
lifting him, they placed him upon the rimpi bed. Then 
she ordered them to inspan the waggon, and this was done 


153 


quickly, for the oxen lay tied to the trek-tow. When all 
was ready she spoke to the two men, telling them what 
had happened so far as she knew it, and adding these 
words : 

“ Trek back to the stead as swiftly as } r on may, one of 
yon sitting in the waggon to watch the Baas Kenzie and to 
comfort him should he wake out of his swoon. Say to the 
father and mother of Swallow that I have taken the horses 
to follow Swart Piet and to rescue her by cunning if so I 
can, for as will be plain to them, this is a business that 
must not wait; also that I have taken with me Zinti since 
he alone knows the path to Bull Head’s secret hiding- 
place in the mountains. Of that road Zinti will tell you 
all he can and you will tell it to the Baas Botmar, who 
must gather together such men as he is able, and start to- 
morrow to follow it and rescue us, remembering what sort 
of peril it is in which his daughter stands. If by any 
means I can free the Swallow, we will come to meet him; 
if not, who knows? Then he must act according to his 
judgment and to what he learns. But let him be sure of 
this, and let her husband be sure also, that while I have 
life in me I will not cease from my efforts to save her, and 
that if she dies — for I know her spirit and no worse harm 
than death will overtake her — then if may be, I will die 
with her or to avenge her, and I have many ways of ven- 
geance. Lastly, let them not believe that we are dead until 
they have certain knowledge of it, for it may chance that we 
cannot return to the stead, but must lie hid in the moun- 
tains or among the Kaffirs. Now hear what Zinti has to 
say as to the path to Bull Head’s den and begone, forget- 
ting no one of my words, for if you linger or forget, when I 
come again I, Sihamba, will blind your eyes and shrivel 
your livers with a spell.” 


154 


“ We hear you,” they answered, “ and remember every 
word of yonr message. In three hours the Baas shall 
know it.” 

Five minntes later they trekked away and so swiftly 
did they drive and so good were the oxen, that in less 
than the three honrs we were awakened by the barking of 
the dogs and one knocking on onr door, and ran out to 
learn all the dreadful tidings and to find Ralph bleeding 
and still senseless, stretched upon that cartel where we 
thought him sleeping happily with his bride. 

Oh! the terror and the agony of that hour, never may I 
forget them. Never may I forget the look that sprang 
into Ralph’s eyes when at last he awoke and turning them 
to seek Suzanne, remembered all. 

“ Why am I here and not dead?” he asked hoarsely. 

“ Sihamba saved you and you have been brought back 
in the waggon,” I answered. 

“ Where then is Suzanne ? ” he asked again. 

“ Sihamba has ridden to save her also, and Jan starts 
presently to follow her, and with him others.” 

“ Sihamba! ” he groaned. “ What can one woman do 
against Piet Van Yooren and his murderers, and for the 
rest they will be too late. Oh! my God, my God, what 
have we done that such a thing should fall upon us? Think 
of it, think of her in the hands of Piet Van Yooren. Oh! 
my God, my God, I shall go mad.” 

Indeed I who watched him, believe that this would have 
been so, or else his brain must burst beneath its shock of 
sorrow, had not nature been kind to him and plunged him 
back into stupor. In this he lay long, until well on into 
the morrow indeed, or rather the day, for by now it was 
three o’clock, when the doctor came to take out the pistol 
ball and set his shattered bone. For, as it chanced, a 


155 


doctor and a clever one had been sent for from the dorp 
to visit the wife of a neighbour who lay sick not more than 
twenty miles away, and we were able to summon him. 
Indeed hut for this man’s skill, the sleeping medicines he 
gave him to quiet his mind, and, above all, a certain special 
mercy which shall he told of in its place, I think that 
Ralph would have died. As it was, seven long weeks went 
by before he could sit upon a horse. 


CHAPTER XVII 


THE HIDDEN KRANTZ 

Before the waggon left her, Sihamba took from it 
Ralph’s gun, a very good roer , together with powder and 
bullets. Also she took tinder, a bottle of peach-brandy, 
a blanket, mealies in a small hag, wherewith to bait the 
horses in case of need, and some other things which she 
thought might be necessary. These she laded among her 
own goods upon the mule that with her horse had been 
fetched by Zinti and hastily fed with corn. Now, at her 
bidding, Zinti set Suzanne’s saddle upon the back of the 
schimmel, and Ralph’s on that of Suzanne’s grey mare, 
which he mounted that the mule might travel lighter. 
Then Sihamba got upon her own horse, a good and quiet 
beast which she rode with a sheepskin for a saddle, and 
they started, Sihamba leading the schimmel and Zinti the 
mule which, as it chanced, although bad tempered, would 
follow well on a riem. 

Riding up the kloof they soon reached the spot where 
Van Yooren’s band had tethered their horses and tracked 
the spoor of them with ease for so long as the ground was 
soft. Afterwards when they reached the open country, 
where the grass had been burnt off and had only just 
begun to spring again, this became more difficult, and at 
length, in that light, impossible. Here they wasted a long 

156 


157 


time, searching for the hoof-marks by the rays of the 
waning moon, only to lose them again so soon as they were 
found. 

“ At this pace we shall take as long to reach Bull Head’s 
kraal as did the cow you followed,” said Sihamba presently. 
Say now, can you find the way to it? ” 

“ Without a doubt, lady; Zinti never forgets a road or a 
landmark.” 

“ Then lead me there as fast as may he.” 

“ Yes, lady, hut Bull Head may have taken the Swallow 
somewhere else, and if we do not follow his spoor how 
shall we know where he has hidden her.” 

“ Fool, I have thought of that,” she answered angrily, 
“ else should I have spent all this time looking for hoof- 
marks in the dark? We must risk it, I say. To his house 
ho has not taken her, for other white folks are living in it, 
and it is not likely he would have a second, or a better 
hiding-place than that you saw. I say that we must he 
hold and risk it since we have no time to lose.” 

“ As you will, mistress,” answered Zinti. “ Who am I 
that I should question your wisdom?” and, turning his 
horse’s head, he rode forward across the gloomy veldt as 
certainly as a homing rock-dove wings its flight. 

So they travelled till the sun rose behind a range 
of distant hills. Then Zinti halted and pointed to 
them. 

“ Look, lady,” he said. “ Do you see that peak among 
the mountains that has a point like a spear, the one that 
seems as though it were on fire? Well, behind it lies Bull 
Head’s kraal.” 

“ It is far, Zinti, hut we must he there by night.” 

“ That may he done, lady, hut if so we must spare our 
horses.” 


158 


“ Good,” she answered. “ Here is a spring; let ns off- 
saddle a while.” 

So they off-saddled and ate of the food which they had 
brought, while the horses filled themselves with the sweet 
green grass, the schimmel being tied to the grey mare, for 
he would not bear a knee-halter. 

All that day they rode, not so very fast but steadily, till 
towards sunset they off-saddled again beneath the shadow 
of the spear-pointed peak. There was no water at this 
spot, but seeing a green place upon the slope of a hill close 
by, Zinti walked to it, leading the thirsty beasts. Pres- 
ently he threw up his hand and whistled, whereon Sihamba 
set out to join him, knowing that he had found a 
spring. So it proved to be, and now they learned that 
Sihamba had been wise in heading straight for Swart 
Piet’s hiding-place, since round about this spring was the 
spoor of many horses and of men. Among these was the 
print of a foot that she knew well, the litte foot of 
Suzanne. 

“ How long is it since they left here? ” asked Sihamba, 
not as one who does not know, but rather as though she 
desired to be certified in her judgment. 

“ When the sun stood there,” answered Zinti, pointing 
to a certain height in the heavens. 

“Yes,” she answered, “three hours. Bull Head has 
travelled quicker than I thought.” 

“Ho,” said Zinti, “but I think that he knew a path 
through the big vlei, whereas we rode round it, two hours’ 
ride, fearing lest we should be bogged. Here by this 
spring they stayed till sunset, for it was needful that the 
horses should feed and rest, since they would save their 
strength in them. 

“ Lady,” went on Zinti presently, “ beyond the neck of 


159 


the hill yonder lies the secret kraal of Bull Head. Say 
now, what is yonr plan when you reach it? ” 

“ I do not know/’ she answered, “ but tell me again of 
the hidden krantz where the women built the new hut, 
and of the way to it.” 

He told her and she listened, saying nothing. 

“ Good,” she said, when he had done. “ How lead me 
to this place, and then perhaps I will tell my plan if I 
have one.” 

So they started on again, but just as they reached the 
crest of the Heck a heavy thunderstorm came up, together 
with clouds and rain, hiding everything j:rom them. 

“ How I suppose that we must stay here till the light 
comes,” said Sihamba. 

“ Hot so, lady,” answered Zinti, “ I have been the 
path once and I can go it again in storm or shine,” 
and he pressed forward, with the lightning flashes for a 
•candle. 

Well was that storm for them indeed, since otherwise 
they would have been seen, for already Swart Piet had set 
his scouts about the kraal. 

At length Sihamba felt that they were riding among 
trees, for water dripped from them upon her and their 
branches brushed her face. 

“ Here is the wood where the women cut poles for the 
new hut,” whispered Zinti in her ear. 

“ Then let us halt,” she answered, and dismounting they 
tied the three horses and the mule to as many small trees 
close together, but not near enough for them to kick each 
other. 

How Sihamba took a piece of biltong from a saddle-bag 
and began to eat it, for she knew that she would need all 
her cleverness and strength. “ Take the bag of mealies,” 


160 


she said, “ and divide it among the horses and the mule, 
giving a double share to the schimmel.” 

Zinti obeyed her, and presently all four of the beasts 
were eating well, for though they had travelled far their 
loads were light, nor had the pace been pressed. 

Sihamba turned, and, holding out her hands towards 
the horses, muttered something rapidly. 

“ What are you doing, mistress? ” asked Zinti. 

“ Perhaps I am throwing a charm upon these animals, 
that they may neither neigh nor whinny till we come again, 
for if they do so we are lost. Now let us go, and — stay, 
bring the gun with you, for you know how to shoot.” 

So they started, slipping through the wet wood like 
shadows. For ten minutes or more they crept on thus 
towards the dark line of cliff, Zinti going first and feeling 
the way with his fingers, till presently he halted. 

“Hist!” he whispered. “I smell people.” 

As he spoke, they heard a sound like to that of someone 
sliding down rocks. Then a man challenged, saying, 
“ Who passes from the krantz ? ” and a woman’s voice an- 
swered, “ It is I, Asika, the wife of Bull Head.” “ I hear 
you,” answered the man. “ Now tell me, Asika, what hap- 
pens yonder.” 

“ What happens? How do I know what happens? ” she 
answered crossly. “ About sunset Bull Head brought home 
his new wife, a white chieftainess, for whom we built the 
hut yonder; but the fashions of marriage among these 
white people must be strange indeed, for this one came 
to her husband, her feet bound, and with a face like to 
the face of a dead woman, the eyes set wide, and the lips 
parted. Yes, and they blindfolded her in the wood there 
and carried her through this hole in the rock down to the 
hut where she is shut in.” 


161 


“ I know something of this matter,” answered the man; 
“ the white lady is no willing wife to Bull Head, for he 
killed her husband and took her by force. Yes, yes, I 
know, for my uncle was one of those with him when the 
deed was done, and he told me something of it just now.” 

“ An evil deed,” said Asika, “ and one that will bring 
bad luck upon all of us; but then, Bull Head, our chief, 
is an evil man. Oh! I know it who am of the number of 
his Kaffir wives. Say, friend,” she went on, “will you 
walk a little way with me, as far as the first huts of the 
kraal, for there are ghosts in the wood, and I fear to pass 
it alone at night.” 

“ I dare not, Asika,” he answered, “ for I am set here 
on guard.” 

“ Have no fear, friend, the chief is within seeing to 
the comfort of his new wife.” 

“ Well, I will come with you a little way if you wish it, 
but I must be back immediately,” he said, and the listeners 
heard them walk off together.” 

“ How, Zinti,” whispered Sihamba, “ lead me through 
the hole in the rock.” 

He took her by the hand and felt along the face of the 
cliff till he found the bush which covered the entrance. 
To this he climbed, dragging her after him, and presently 
they were in the secret krantz. 

“We have found our way into the spider’s nest,” mut- 
tered Zinti, who grew afraid; “ but say, lady, how shall we 
find our way out of it?” 

“ Lead on and leave that to me,” she answered. “ Where 
I, a woman, can go, surely you who are a man can go 
also.” 

“ I trust to your magic to protect us — therefore I come,” 
said Zinti, “ though if we are seen our death is sure.” 


162 


On they crept across the glen, till presently they heard 
the sonnet of the small waterfall and saw it glimmering 
faintly through the gloom and drizzling rain. To their 
left ran the stream, and on the hanks of it stood something 
large and round. 

“ There stands the new hut where Swallow is,” whis- 
pered Zinti. 

Now Sihamha thought for a moment and said: 

“ Zinti, I must find out what passes in that hut. Listen: 
do you lie hid among the reeds under the bank of the 
stream, and if you hear me hoot like an owl, then come to 
me, hut not before.” 

“ I obey,” answered Zinti, and crept down among the 
reeds, where he crouched for a long time up to his knees 
in water, shivering with cold and fear. 


CHAPTER XVIII 


WHAT PASSED IN THE HUT 

Going on to her hands and knees Sihamba crawled to- 
wards the hut. Now she was within ten paces of it and could 
see that a naan stood on guard at its doorway. “ I must 
creep round to the back,” she thought, and began to do so, 
heading for some shrubs which grew to the right. Already 
she had almost reached them, when of a sudden, and for an 
instant only, the moon shone out between two thick clouds, 
revealing her, though indistinctly, to the eyes of the guard. 
Now Sihamba was wearing a fur cape made of wild dog’s 
hide, and, crouched as she was upon her hands and knees, 
half -hidden, moreover, by a tuft of dry grass, the man 
took her to be a wild dog or a jackal, and the hair which 
stood out round her head for the ruff upon the animal’s 
neck. 

“ Take that, you four-legged night thief,” he said aloud, 
and hurled the assegai in his hand straight at her. The 
aim was good; indeed, had she been a dog it would have 
transfixed her. As it was, the spear passed just beneath 
her body, pinning the hanging edges of the cape and re- 
maining fixed in the tough leather. Now if Sihamba’s 
wit had left her, as would have happened with most, she 
was lost, but not for nothing had she been a witch- 
doctoress from her childhood, skilled in every artifice and 

103 


164 


accustomed to face death. From his words she guessed 
that the sentry had mistaken her for a wild beast, so 
instead of springing to her feet she played the part of one, 
and uttering a howl of pain scrambled away among the 
bushes. She heard the man start to follow her, then the 
moonlight went out and he returned to his post grumbling 
over his lost assegai and saying that he would find it in 
the jackal’s body on the morrow. Sihamba, listening not 
far away, knew his voice; it was that of the fellow who had 
set the noose about her neck at Swart Piet’s bidding and 
who was to have done the murder in the pass. 

“ Now, friend, you are unarmed,” she thought to herself, 
“ for you have no gun with you, and perhaps we shall settle 
our accounts before you go and to seek that dead jackal by 
to-morrow’s light.” Then drawing the assegai from the 
cloak and keeping it in her hand, she crept on till she came 
to the back of the hut in safety. Still she was not much 
nearer to her end, for the hut was new and very well built, 
and she could find no crack to look through, though when 
she placed her ear against its side she thought that she 
could hear the sound of a man’s voice. In her perplexity 
Sihamba cast her eyes upwards and saw that a fine line of 
light shone from the smoke-hole at the very top of the hut, 
which was hive-shaped, and a thought came into her head. 

“ If I climb up there,” she said to herself, “ I can look 
down through the smoke-hole and see and hear what passes 
in the hut. Only then if the moon comes out again I may 
be seen lying on the thatch; well, that I must chance with 
the rest.” So very slowly and silently, by the help of the 
rimpis which bound the straw, she climbed the dome of the 
hut, laughing to herself to think that this was the worst 
of omens for its owner, till at length she reached the 
smoke-hole at the top and looked down. 


165 


This was what she saw: Half seated, half lying upon a. 
rough bedstead spread with blankets, was Snzanne. Her 
hair had come undone and hung about her, her feet were 
still loosely hound together, and as the Kaffir, Asika, had 
said, her face was like the face of a dead woman, and her 
eyes were set in a fixed unnatural stare. Before her was 
a table cut by natives out of a single block of wood, on 
which were two candles of sheep’s fat set in bottles, and 
beyond the table stood Swart Piet, who was addressing her. 

“ Suzanne,” he said, “ listen to me. I have always loved 
you, Suzanne, yes, from the time when I was but a boy: 
we used to meet now and again, you know, when you were 
out riding with the Englishman who is dead ” — here Su- 
zanne’s face changed, then resumed its deathlike mask — 
“ and always I worshipped you, and always I hated the 
Englishman whom you favoured. Well, as you grew older 
you began to understand and dislike me, and Kenzie began 
to understand and insult me, and from that seed of slight 
and insult grew most that is bad in me. Yes, Suzanne, 
you will say that I am wicked; and I am wicked. I have 
done things of which I should not like to tell you, I have 
done such things as you saw last night, I have mixed my- 
self up with Kaffir wizardries and cruelties, forgotten God 
and taken another master, and so far from honouring my 
own father, why, I struck him down when he was drunk 
and dared me to it, and of that blow they say he died. 
Well, I owed him nothing less for begetting me into such 
a world as this, and teaching me how to find the devil be- 
fore the time. 

“ And now, Suzanne, standing before you as I do here 
with your husband’s blood upon my hands, and seeking 
your love over his grave, you will look at me and say — 
‘ This man is a monster, a madman, one who should be cast 


166 


from the earth and stamped deep, deep into hell/ Yes, 
all these things I am, and let the weight of them rest upon 
your head, for you made me them, Suzanne. I am mad, I 
know that I am mad as my father and grandfather were 
before me, but my madness is mixed with knowledge, for 
in me runs the blood of the old Pondo witch-doctoress, my 
grandmother, she who knew many things that are not 
given to white men. When I saw you and loved you I 
became half mad — before that I was sane — and when the 
Englishman, Kenzie, struck me with the whip after our 
fight at the sheep-kraal, ah! then I went wholly mad, and 
see how wisely, for you are the first-fruits of my madness, 
you and the body that to-night rolls to and from in the 
ocean. 

“ You do not answer well, look you, Suzanne, I have 
won you by craft and blood, and by craft and blood I will 
keep you. Here you are in my power, here Heaven itself 
•could not save you from me, in Bull Head’s secret krantz 
that none know of hut some few natives. Choose, there- 
fore, forget the sins that I have committed to win you and 
become my wife willingly, and no woman shall ever find a 
better husband, for then the fire and the tempest will leave 
my brain and it will grow calm as it was before I saw you. 

“ Have you still no answer? Well, I will not hurry you. 
See, I must go — do you know what for? To set scouts 
lest by any chance your father or other fools should have 
found my hiding-place, though I think that they can never 
find it except it be through the wisdom of Sihamba, which 
they will not seek. Still I go and in an hour I will return 
for your answer, which you must make the Suzanne Su- 
zanne, since whether you desire it, or desire it not, fortune 
has given you to me. Have you no word for me before 
I go?” 


167 


Now during all this long, half-insane harangue, Su- 
zanne had sat quite silent, making no reply at all, not even 
seeming to hear the demon, for such he was, whose wicked 
talk defiled her ears. But when he asked her whether she 
had nothing to say to him before he went, still looking 
not at him, hut beyond him, she gave him his answer in 
one word, the same that she had used when she awoke 
from her swoon: 

“ Murderer” 

“ Something in the tone in which she spoke, or perhaps 
in the substance of that short speech, seemed to cow him, 
at the least he turned and left the hut, and presently 
Sihamba heard him talking to the sentry without, bidding 
him to keep close watch till he came back within an hour. 

When Piet went out he left the door-board of the hut 
open, so that Sihamba dared neither act nor speak, fearing 
lest the guard should hear or see her through it. There- 
fore she still lay upon the top of the hut, and watched the 
smoke-hole. For a while Suzanne sat quiet upon the bed, 
then of a sudden she rose from it, and shuffling across the 
hut as well as her bound feet would allow her, she closed 
the opening with the door-board, and secured it by its 
wooden bar. Next she returned to the bed and, seated 
upon it, clasped her hands and began to pray, muttering 
aloud and mixing with her prayer the name of her husband 
Kalph. Ceasing presently, she thrust her hand into her 
bosom and drew from it a knife, not large, but strong and 
very sharp. Opening this knife she cut the thong that 
bound her ankles, and made it into a noose. Then she 
looked earnestly first at the noose, next at the knife, and 
thirdly at the candles, and Sihamba understood that she 
meant to do herself to death, and was choosing between 
steel and rope and fire. 


168 


Now all this while, although she dared not so much as 
whisper, Sihamba had not been idle, for with the blade 
of the assegai she was working gently at the thatch of the 
smoke-hole, and cutting the rimpis that bound it, till at 
last, and not too soon, she thought that it was wide enough 
to allow of the passage of her small body. Then watching 
until the guard leaned against the hut, so that the bulge of 
it would cut her off from his sight, during the instant that 
her figure was outlined against the sky, she stood up, and 
thrusting her feet through the hole, forced her body to 
follow them, and then dropped lightly as a cat to the floor 
beneath. But now there was another danger to be faced, 
and a great one, namely, that Suzanne might cry out in 
fear, which doubtless she would have done, had not the 
sudden sight of some living creature in the hut where she 
thought herself alone, so startled her that for a moment 
she lost her breath. Before she could find it again Si- 
hamba was whispering in her ear, saying: 

“Keep silence for your life’s sake, Swallow. It is I, 
Sihamba, who am come to save you.” 

Suzanne stared at her, and light came back into the 
empty eyes, then they grew dark again, as she answered 
below her breath: 

“ Of what use is my life? Balph is dead, and I was 
about to take it that I may save myself from shame and go 
to seek him, for surely God will forgive the sin.” 

Sihamba looked at her and said: 

“ Swallow, prepare yourself for a great joy, and, above 
all, do not cry out. Your husband is not dead, he was but 
wounded, and I drew him living from the sea. He lies 
safe at the stead in your mother’s care.” 

Suzanne heard her, and, notwithstanding her caution, 
still she would have cried aloud in the madness of her joy. 


1G9 


had not Sihamba, seeing her lips opened, thrust her hands 
upon her mouth and held them there till the danger was 
past. 

“ You do not lie to me? ” she gasped at length. 

“ Nay, I speak truth; I swear it. But this is no time to 
talk. Yonder stand food and milk; eat while I think.” 

As Sihamba guessed, nothing but a little water had 
passed Suzanne’s lips since that meal which she and her 
husband took together beside the waggon, nor one minute 
before could she have swallowed anything had her life 
been the price of it. But now it was different, for despair 
had left her, and hope shone in her heart again, and be- 
hold! of a sudden she was hungry, and ate and drank with 
gladness, while Sihamba thought. 

Presently the little woman looked up and whispered: 

“ A plan comes into my head; it is a strange one, but I 
can find no other, and it may serve our turn, for I think 
that good luck goes with us. Swallow, give me the noose 
of hide which you made from the riem that bound your 
feet.” 

Suzanne obeyed her wondering, whereon Sihamba placed 
the noose about her neck, then bade Suzanne stand upon 
the bed and thrust the end of the riem loosely into the 
thatch of the hut as high up as she could reach, so that it 
looked as though it were made fast there. Next, Sihamba 
slipped off her fur cloak, leaving herself naked except 
for the moocha round her middle, and, clasping her hands 
behind her back with the assegai between them, she drew 
the riem taut, and leaned against the wall of the hut after 
the fashion of one who is about to be pulled from the 
ground and strangled. 

“ Now, mistress, listen to me,” she said earnestly. 
“ You have seen me like this before, have you not, when I 


170 


was about to be banged, and you bought my life at a price. 
Well, as it chances, that man who guards the hut is he who 
took me at Bull Head’s bidding and set the rope round 
my neck, whereon I said some words to him which made 
him afraid. Now if he sees me again thus in a hut where 
he knows you to be alone, he will think that I am a ghost 
and his heart will turn to ice and the strength of his hands 
to water, and then before he can find his strength again I 
will make an end of him with the spear, as I know well 
how to do although I am so small, and we will fly.” 

“ Is there no other way? ” murmured Suzanne aghast. 

“ None, Swallow. For you the choice lies between wit- 
nessing this deed and — Swart Piet or death. Nay, you 
need not witness it even, if you will do as I tell you. Pres- 
ently, when I give the word, loosen the bar of the door 
board, then crouch by the hole and utter a low cry of fear, 
calling to the man on guard for help. He will enter and 
sec me, whereon you can creep through the door-hole and 
wait without leaving me to deal with him. If I succeed 
I will be with you at once; if I fail, run to the stream and 
hoot like an owl, when Zinti, who is hidden there, will 
join you. Then you must get out of the krantz as best you 
can. Only one man watches the entrance, and if needful 
Zinti can shoot him. The schimmel and other horses are 
hidden in the wood, and he will lead you to them. Mount 
and ride for home, or anywhere away from this accursed 
place, and at times when you talk of the matter of your 
escape with your husband, think kindly of Sihamba 
Ngenyanga. Nay, do not answer, for there is little time 
to lose. Quick, now, to the door-hole, and do as I bade you.” 

So, like one in a dream, Suzanne loosened the bar, and, 
crouching by the entrance to the hut, uttered a low wail 
of terror, saying, “ Help me, soldier, help me swiftly,” in 


171 


the Kaffir tongue. The man without heard, and, pushing 
down the board, crept in at once, saying, “ Who harms 
you, lady! ” as he rose to his feet. Then suddenly, in this 
hut, where there was hut one woman, a white woman, 
whom he himself had carried into it, he beheld another 
woman — Sihamba; and his hair stood up upon his head 
and his eyes grew round with terror. Yes, it was Sihamba 
herself, for the light of the candles shone full upon her, or, 
rather, her ghost, and she was hanging to the roof, the 
tips of her toes just touching the ground, as once he had 
seen her hang before. 

For some seconds he stared in his terror, and while he 
stared Suzanne slipped from the hut. Then muttering 
“ It is the spirit of the witch, Sihamba, who prophesied my 
death her spirit that haunts me/’ he dropped to his knees, 
and, trembling like a leaf, turned to creep from the hut. 
Next second he was dead, dead without a sound, for Si- 
hamba was a doctoress, and knew well where to thrust with 
the spear. 

Of all this Suzanne heard nothing and saw nothing, till 
presently Sihamba stood by her side holding the skin cape 
in one hand and the spear in the other. 

“ Now one danger is done with,” she said quietly, as she 
put on the cape, “but many still remain. Follow me. 
Swallow,” and, going to the edge of the stream, she hooted 
like an owl, whereupon Zinti came out of the reeds, looking 
very cold and frightened. 

“ Be swift,” whispered Sihamba, and they started along 
the krantz at a run. Before they were half way across it, 
the storm-clouds, which had been thinning gradually, 
broke up altogether, and the moon shone out with a bright 
light, showing them as plainly as though it were day, but 
as it chanced they met nobody and were seen of none. 


172 

At length they reached the cleft in the rock that led to 
the plain below. “ Stay here,” said Sihamba, “ while I 
look,” and she crept to the entrance. Presently she re- 
turned and said: 

“ A man watches there, and it is not possible to slip 
past him because of the moonlight. Now, I know of only 
one thing that we can do; and you, Zinti, must do it. Slip 
down the rock and cover the man with your gun, saying to 
him that if he stirs a hand or speaks a word you will shoot 
him dead. Hold him thus till we are past you on our way 
to the wood, then follow us as best you can, but do not fire 
except to save your life or ours.” 

Now the gifts of Zinti lay rather in tracking and remem- 
bering paths and directions than in fighting men, so that 
when he heard this order he was afraid and hesitated. But 
when she saw it, Sihamba turned upon him so fiercely 
that he feared her more than the watchman, and went at 
once, so that this man who was half asleep suddenly saw 
the muzzle of a roer within three paces of his head and 
heard a voice command him to stand still and silent or 
die. Thus he stood indeed until he perceived that the new 
wife of his chief was escaping, and then remembering what 
would he his fate at the hands of Bull Head he determined 
to take his chance of being shot, and, turning suddenly, 
sped towards the kraal shouting as he ran, whereon Zinti 
fired at him, but the hall went wide. A cannon could 
scarcely have made more noise than did the great roer in 
the silence of the night as the report of it echoed to and 
fro among the hills. 

“ Oh! fool to fire, and yet greater fool to miss,” said Si- 
hamba. “ To the horses! Swift! swift! ” 

They ran as the wind runs, and now they were in the 
wood, and now they had found the beasts. 


173 


“ Praise to the Snake of my house! ” said Sihamba, 
“ they are safe, all four of them,” and very quickly they 
untied the riems by which they had fastened the horses 
to the trees. 

“ Mount, Swallow,” said Sihamba, seizing the head of 
the great schimmel. 

Suzanne set her foot upon the shoulder of Zinti, who 
knelt to receive it, and sprang into the saddle. Then 
having lifted Sihamba on to the grey mare Zinti mounted 
the other horse himself holding the mule by a leading riem. 

“ Which way, mistress ? ” he asked. 

“ Homewards,” she answered, and they cantered forward 
through the wood. 

On the further side of this wood was a little sloping plain 
not more than three hundred paces wide, and beyond it lay 
the seaward Nek through which they must pass on their 
journey to the stead. Already they were out of the wood 
and upon the plain, when from their right a body of 
horsemen swooped towards them, seven in all, of whom 
one, the leader, was Swart Piet himself, cutting them off 
from the Nek. They halted their horses as though to 
a word of command, and speaking rapidly, Sihamba asked 
of Zinti: “ Is there any other pass through yonder range, 
for this one is barred to us?” 

“ None that I know of,” he answered; “ hut I have seen 
that the ground behind us is flat and open as far as the 
great peak which you saw rising on the plain away beyond 
the sky-line.” 

“ Good,” said Sihamba. “ Let us head for the peak, 
since we have nowhere else to go, and if we are separated, 
let us agree to meet upon its southern slope. Now, Zinti, 
loose the mule, for we have our lives to save, and ride on, 
remembering that death is behind you.” 


CHAPTER XIX 


HOW THE SCHIMMEL CROSSED THE RED WATER 

When they turned their horses’ heads, Swart Piet and 
his men were not much more than a hundred paces from 
them, hut in the wood they gained much ground, for he 
did not think that they would dare to leave it, and hunted 
for them there while they were racing over the open plain 
more than a mile away. At last he caught sight sight of 
them crossing a distant ridge, and the long chase began. 
For hour after hour they galloped on through the moon- 
light across the wide and rolling veldt until the moon 
sank, and they must pick their way as best they could in 
the darkness. Then came the dawn, and still they rode 
forward, though now the horses were beginning to grow 
weary, except the schimmel, who pulled upon his bit as 
though he were fresh from the stable. In front of them, 
some twenty miles away, rose the lofty peak for which 
they were heading, and behind lay the great expanse of 
plain which they had passed. Suzanne looked back over 
her shoulder, but there was no one in sight. 

“ Let us halt,” she said, “ and rest ourselves and the 
horses.” So they pulled up by a stream and suffered the 
beasts to drink some water, though not much, while they 
themselves devoured biltong, of which they had a little in 
the saddle-bags. 


174 


175 


“ Why do we ride for the peak? ” asked Suzanne. 

“ Because there are places where we may lie hid,” Si- 
hamba answered, “ and thence we can make our way down 
to the seashore and so back homewards, whereas here upon 
the plain we can he seen from miles away.” 

“ Do any people live on the peak? ” 

“ Yes, Swallow; it is the home of the great chief Sigwe, 
the chief-paramount of the Bed Kaffirs, who counts his 
spears by thousands, but I have heard that he is away to 
the north upon a war which he makes against some of the 
Swazi tribes with whom he has a quarrel.” 

“ Will the people of Sigwe protect us, Sihamba? ” 

“ Perhaps. We shall see. At least, you are safer with 
them than in the hands of Swart Piet.” 

At this moment, Zinti, who was watching the plain 
over which they had travelled, uttered a cry of warning. 
Looking back, they saw the reason of it, for there, crossing 
the crest of a wave of ground, not more than a mile away, 
were five horsemen riding hard upon their spoor. 

“ Swart Piet and four of his men,” said Sihamba, “ and 
by my spirit, they have fresh horses; they must have taken 
them from the kraal of the half-breed which we passed at 
daybreak, and that is why we lost sight of them for a 
while.” 

Now even as Zinti helped her to mount the schimmel, 
Suzanne turned so faint with terror that she almost fell 
to the ground again. 

“ Have no fear, Swallow,” said Sihamba, “ he has not 
caught us yet, and a voice in me says that we shall escape 
him.” 

But though she spoke thus bravely, in her heart Sihamba 
was much afraid, for except the schimmel their horses were 
almost spent, whereas Van Vooren was fresh mounted, and 


176 


not a mile behind. Still they galloped forward till they 
reached a more broken stretch of veldt, where trees grew 
singly, and here and there were kloofs with bush in them. 

“ Mistress,” cried Zinti, “my horse can go no more, 
and Bull Head is hard upon ns. Of yonr wisdom tell me 
what I should do or presently I must be killed.” 

“ Ride into that kloof and hide yourself,” answered Si- 
hamba, “ for Bull Head will never seek you there; he hunts 
the white Swallow, not the black finch. Afterwards you 
can follow on our spoor, and if you cannot find us, make 
your way back to the Baas Botmar and tell him all you 
know. Quick, into the kloof, for here they cannot see 
you.” 

“ I hear you, lady,” said Zinti, and the next minute they 
saw him leading his weary horse into the shelter of the 
thick bush, for the poor beast could carry him no more. 

For the next three miles the ground trended downwards 
to the banks of a great river, beyond which were the gentle 
rising slopes that surrounded the foot of the high peak. 
On they galloped, the schimmel never faltering in his 
swinging stride, although his flanks grew thin and his eyes 
large. But with the grey mare it was otherwise, for though 
she was a gallant nag her strength was gone. Indeed, with 
any heavier rider upon her back, ere this she would have 
fallen. But still she answered to Sihamba’s voice and 
plunged on, rolling and stumbling in her gait. 

“ She will last till the river,” she said, seeing Suzanne 
look at the mare. 

“ And then ? ” gasped Suzanne, glancing behind her 

to where, not five hundred yards away, Swart Piet and his 
Kaffirs hunted them sullenly and in silence, as strong dogs 
hunt down a wounded buck. 

“ And then — who knows? ” answered Sihamba, and they 


177 


went on without more words, for they had no breath to 
spare. 

Now, not half a mile away, they came in sight of the 
river, which had been hidden from them before by the lie 
of the ground, and a groan of despair broke from their 
lips, for it was in flood. Yes, the storms in the mountains 
had swollen it, and it rolled towards the sea a red flood of 
foam-flecked water, well-nigh two hundred yards from 
hank to hank. Still they rode on, for they dared not stop, 
and presently behind them they heard a shout of triumph, 
and knew that their pursuers had also seen the Red Water, 
and rejoiced because now they had them in a trap. 

Within ten yards of the lip of the river, the grey mare 
stopped suddenly, shivered like a leaf in the wind and 
sank to the ground. 

“ Now, Swallow,” said Sihamba as she slipped from the 
saddle, “ you must choose between that raging torrent 
and Swart Piet. If you choose the torrent the great horse 
is still strong and he may swim through; I can say no 
more.” 

“ And you? ” asked Suzanne. 

"I? I bide here, and oh! I would that Zinti had left 
the gun with me.” 

“ Never,” cried Suzanne. “ Together we will live or 
die. Mount, I say — mount. Nay, if you refuse I will 
throw myself into the water before your eyes.” 

Then seeing that she would indeed do no less, Sihamba, 
took her outstretched hand, and placing her foot upon the 
foot of Suzanne, scrambled up upon the pad in front of 
her, whereat the pursuers, who now were little over two 
hundred yards away, laughed out loud, and Swart Piet 
shouted to Suzanne to yield. But they did not laugh 
long, for Sihamba, having first bent her head and kissed 


178 


Suzanne on the hand, leaned forward and began to stroke 
the schimmeFs neck and to whisper into his ear, till indeed 
it seemed as though the great brute that loved her under- 
stood. At the least he pricked his ears and tossed his 
head, then looked first round at the horses that drew near 
and next at the foaming flood in front. 

“ Sit fast, Swallow,” said Sihamba, and then she cried 
a word aloud to the horse, and struck it lightly with her 
hand. At the sound of that word the stallion drew himself 
together, sprang forward with two bounds over the ten 
paces of level bank and leapt far out into the flood that 
foamed beneath. Down sank the horse and his riders till 
the Red Water closed over their heads, then they rose again 
and heard the shout of wonder of their enemies who by 
now had almost reached the bank. With a yell of rage 
Black Piet rode his horse at the river, for to do him justice 
he was a brave man, but do what he might it would not 
face it, so with the others he sat still and watched. 

Now the schimmel struck out bravely, heading for the 
other bank, but in the fierce current it was not possible 
that any horse should reach it swimming in a straight line, 
for the weight of the stream was too great. Sihamba had 
noted, however, that from the further shore, but two or 
three hundred paces lower down the river, a little point of 
land projected into it, and this the horse had seen also, or 
perhaps she told him of it, at least for that point he swam 
steadily. In five minutes they were in the centre of the 
torrent, and here it ran with a roar and mighty force so 
that its waves began to break over the schimmeFs head, 
and they feared that he would drown. So much did Si- 
hamba fear it, indeed, that she slipped from his back, and 
leaving Suzanne to cling to the saddle, caught hold of his 
mane, floating along side of him and protected by his neck 


179 


from the whirl of the water. Lying thus she continued 
to call to the horse and to urge him forward, and ever he 
answered to her words, so that although twice he nearly 
sank, in the end he set his feet upon a sandbank and, hav- 
ing rested there a while, plunged forward, half wading 
and half swimming, to the projecting point of land, up 
which he scrambled still carrying Suzanne and dragging 
Sihamba with him, until once more they found themselves 
safe upon the solid earth, where he stood shaking himself 
and snorting. 

Suzanne slipped from the saddle and lay flat upon the 
ground, looking at the awful water they had passed, and by 
her lay Sihamba. Presently the little doctoress spoke. 

“It is well to have lived/’ she said, “if only to have 
dared that deed, for no others have ever made the passage 
across the Red Water in flood, two of them on one tired 
horse,” and she caught in her arms the muzzle of the 
schimmel that hung above her pressing it to her breast as 
though it had been a child, whereon the brute whinnied 
faintly, knowing well that she was thanking him for his 
toil and courage. 

“ I pray God that I may never he called upon to make 
it again,” answered Suzanne, staggering to her feet, the 
water running from her dripping dress as she turned to 
look across the river. 

Now, when Van Vooren’s horse refused to face the 
stream, he had ridden up and down shouting like a mad- 
man, once even he lifted his gun and pointed it, then let 
it fall again, remembering that he could not make sure 
of hitting the horse, and that if he did so Suzanne must 
certainly he drowned. When they were quite beyond his 
reach in the middle of the stream, he stood still and 
watched until he saw them come to the further shore in 


180 


safety. Then he called his men about him and consulted 
with them, and the end of it was that they rode off in a 
body up the bank of the river. 

“ They go to seek a ford,” said Suzanne. 

“ Yes, Swallow, but now we shall have the start of them. 
Come, let us mount.” 

So they climbed upon the back of the scliimmel, and 
once more he went on with them, not fast, for now he 
could not even canter, but ambling or walking, according 
to the nature of the ground, at a rate perhaps of eight 
miles the hour. Soon they had left the river and were toil- 
ing up the slopes of the peak, until presently they struck a 
well-worn footpath. 

“ I think that this must lead to the town of Sigwe,” said 
Sihamba. 

“ I pray that it does,” answered Suzanne, “ and that it is 
not far, for I feel as though death were near to me.” 

“ Keep a great heart,” said Sihamba, “ for we have met 
Death face to face and conquered him.” 

So still they toiled on till at length the path took a 
turn, and there, in a fold of the hill, they beheld the great 
kraal of Sigwe, a very large Kaffir town. Before the kraal 
was a wide open space, and on that space armed men were 
assembled, several full regiments of them. In front of 
this impi were gathered a company of chiefs. 

“ Now we have no choice,” said Sihamba, and turned 
the schimmel towards them, while all that army started at 
this strange sight of two women, one tall and fair, one 
black and little, riding towards them mounted together 
upon a great blood horse which was so weary that he could 
scarcely set one foot before the other. 

When they reached the captains Sihamba slipped to the 
ground, but Suzanne remained seated upon the schimmel. 


181 


“ Who are you ? ” asked a broad man in a leopard-skin 
cloak of Sihamba; but although she was small and dishev- 
elled, her hair and garments being wet with water, he did 
not laugh at her, for he saw that this stranger had the air 
of one who is of the blood of chiefs. 

“ I am Sihamba Ngenyanga, the doctoress, of whom you 
may have heard,” she answered; and some of the people- 
said, “ We have heard of her; she is a great doctoress.” 

“ To what people do you belong, Sihamba? ” asked the 
captain again. 

“ I belong to the people of Zwide, whom Chaka drove 
from Zululand, and by birth I am the chieftainess of the 
Umpondwana, who live in the mountain Umpondwana, 
and who were the Children of Zwide, but are now the 
Children of Chaka.” 

‘‘Why then do you wander so far from home, Sihamba?” 1 

“ For this reason. When Zwide and his people, the 
Endwandwe, were driven back, my people, the Umpond- 
wana, who were subject to Zwide, made peace with Chaka 
against my will. Therefore, because I would not live as 
a Zulu dog, I left them.” 

“ Although your body is small you have a large heart,” 
said the captain, and one of his people cried out: “ The 
story of Sihamba is true, for when you sent me as mes- 
senger to the Endwandwe, I heard it — it is a tale there.” 

Then the captain asked, “And who is the beautiful 
white woman who sits upon the great horse?” 

“ She is my mother and my sister and my mistress, 
whom I serve till death, for she saved me from death, and 
her name is Swallow.” 

Now at this word Swallow, most of those present started, 
and some uttered exclamations of wonder, especially a little 
band of people, men and women, who stood to the left. 


182 


and who from their dress and other tokens it was easy to 
see were witch-doctors and diviners. Sihamba noted the 
movements and words of wonder, but pretending to see 
nothing she went on: 

“ The lady Swallow and I have fled hither from far, 
hoping to find the chief Sigwe, for we need his counsel 
and protection, but he is away, making war to the north, 
is it not so? ” 

“ Nay,” answered the captain. “ I am the chief Sigwe, 
and I have not yet begun my war.” 

“ I am glad,” said Sihamba. “ Chief, listen to my 
tale and suffer us to creep into the shadow of your 

strength ” and in a few words she told them the story 

of the capture of Suzanne by Swart Piet and of their 
flight from him. Now when she spoke of Van Yooren, or 
of Bull Head rather, for she called him by his native name, 
.she saw that Sigwe and the captains looked at each other, 
and when she had told how they had swum the Red Water 
in flood, the two of them upon one horse, she was sure that 
they did not believe her, for such a deed they thought 
to be impossible. But still Sihamba went on and ended — 
4e Chief, we seek this from you: protection from Bull Head, 
who doubtless will be here ere long, and an escort of spears 
to lead us down the coast to the home of the Swallow, a 
hundred miles away, where they and you will be well 
rewarded for the service. Answer us quick, chief, I pray 
you, for our need is great and we are weary.” 


CHAPTER XX 


THE OMEN OE THE WHITE SWALLOW 

Now Sigwe and two of his captains walked to where the 
diviners stood and took counsel with them, speaking low 
and earnestly. Then he returned and said: 

“ Sihamba, Walker-by-Moonlight, and you. Lady Swal- 
low, listen to me. A wonderful thing has come to pass in 
the kraal of Sigwe this day, such a thing as our fathers 
have not known. You see that my host is gathered yon- 
der: well, to-morrow they start to make war upon these 
very Endwandwe of whom you have spoken because of a 
deadly insult which they have put upon me and my house. 
Therefore, according to custom, this morning the soldiers 
were assembled at dawn to be doctored and that the 
diviners might search out the omens of the war. So the 
diviners searched, and she who was chosen among them 
ate the medicine and sank into the witch sleep here before 
us all. Yes, this one,” and he pointed to a tall woman 
with dreamy eyes who was bedizened with bones and snake- 
skins. “ Now in her sleep she spoke, and we hung upon 
her wwds, for we knew that they would be the words of 
omen. Sihamba, these were the words as all can testify: 
6 Thus say the spirits of your fathers, and thus speaks the 
Snake of your tribe. Unless a White Swallow guide your 
footsteps in the war with the men of the mountains you 

183 


184 


shall perish and yonr impis shall be scattered, but if a 
White Swallow flies before your spears then but little of 
jour blood shall be shed, and you shall return with honour 
and with you one whom you seek. Only the Swallow shall 
not return with you, for if she set her face southward, then, 
Sigwe, woe to you and your armies/ 

“ Sihamba, these were the words of the dreamer. 
Scarcely was she awake again while we wondered at their 
strangeness, and asked her questions of their meaning, 
which she could not answer, for here the wisdom of the 
wdsest was at fault, lo! you rode over the hill, and with you 
a beautiful white woman whose name you say is Swallow. 
Yes, this is the White Swallow who shall fly in front of 
my regiments, bringing me honour and good fortune in 
the war, and therefore your prayer is granted, though not 
all of it, for you shall go northward and not southward, 
and among your own people I will leave you and the 
Swallow with you, and for her sake I will spare your 
people, the people of Umpondwana, although they are sub- 
ject to my foes, the Endwandwe, and of the same blood. 
Moreover, while you are among us all honour shall be done 
to you and the Swallow, and of the cattle we capture a 
tenth part shall be the Swallow’s. Still, I tell you this, 
that had it not been for the omen of the diviner I would 
have refused your prayer and delivered you and the Swal- 
low over to Bull Head, for with him I have sworn friend- 
ship long ago. But now the face of things is changed, and 
should he come with a hundred men armed with guns yet 
I will protect you from him, and the Swallow also; yes, 
though oaths must be broken to do it.” 

When they heard this saying, Suzanne and Sihamba 
looked at each other in dismay. 

“ Alas! ” said Suzanne,. “ it seems that we do but change 


185 


one prison for another, for now we must be borne away to 
the far north to do battle with this Kaffir chief, and there 
be left among your people, so that none will know what has 
become of us, and the heart of Ralph will break with doubt 
and sorrow; yes, and those of my parents also.” 

“ It is bad,” answered Sihamba, “ but had not yonder 
diviner dreamed that dream of a swallow, it would have 
been worse. Better is it to travel in all honour with the 
impis of Sigwe than to be dragged back by Bull Head to 
his secret kraal — I to be done to death there and you to the 
choice of which you know. For the rest we must take our 
chance and escape when the time comes, and meanwhile 
we will send a message to the stead.” 

Kow Suzanne heard her, and sat upon the horse think- 
ing, for her trouble was sore; still, she could see no way 
out of the net which had meshed her. As she thought, a 
man who was herding cattle on the mountain ran up to the 
chief and saluted him, saying that five men, one of them 
white, rode towards his kraal. When Suzanne heard this 
she hesitated no more, but cried out to the chief 
Sigwe, speaking in the Kaffir tongue, which she knew 
well: 

“ Chief Sigwe, swear to me that you will not suffer Bull 
Head so much as to touch me or my sister Sihamba, and 
that while we dwell with you you will treat us with all 
honour, and I, who am named Swallow, yes, I, the White 
Swallow of the diviner's dream, will lead your armies to 
the northern land, bringing you the good fortune which 
is mine to give to others, though myself I know it not.” 

“ I swear it by the spirits of my fathers, lady,” answered 
Sigwe, “ and these my counsellors and headmen swear it 
also.” 

“ Yes,” echoed the counsellors, “ we swear it, all of it. 


186 


and while one of ns is left alive the oath shall be fulfilled, 
0 White Bird of good omen.” 

Then Sigwe gave an order, and at his bidding five hun- 
dred soldiers, the half of a regiment, ran up and formed a 
circle about Sihamba and Suzanne, who still sat upon the 
schimmel, white-faced and wearied, her hair hanging down 
her back. Scarcely was the circle made when from round 
the shoulder of the hill appeared Swart Piet and with him 
his four after-riders. 

Seeing all the great array, he halted for a moment aston- 
ished, then catching sight of Suzanne set up above the 
heads of the ring of soldiers, he rode straight to Sigwe who, 
with his counsellors and guards, was standing outside the 
circle. 

“ Chief Sigwe,” he said, “ a wife of mine with her ser- 
vant has escaped from me, and as I suspected taken refuge 
in your kraal, for I see her sitting yonder surrounded by 
your soldiers. Now, in the name of our friendship, I pray 
you hand them over to me that I may lead them back to 
their duty.” 

“ I give you greeting, Bull Head,” answered Sigwe 
courteously, “ and I thank you for your visit to my town; 
presently an ox shall be sent for you to eat. As for this 
matter of the white lady and her companion it is one that 
we can inquire into at leisure. I understand that she is 
the daughter of the big Boer whom the natives of the coast 
name Thick- Arm; also that you murdered the lady’s hus- 
band and carried her off by force to be your wife instead of 
his. Now here, as you know, I am chief paramount, for 
having of our blood in your veins you understand our 
customs, and, therefore, I must see justice done, especially 
as I do not wish to bring a quarrel with the white people 
upon our heads. So off-saddle a while, and to-morrow be- 


187 


fore I start upon a certain journey, I will summon my 
counsellors and we will try the case.” 

Now by this time Swart Piet, who, as Sigwe had said, 
understood the customs of the Kaffirs, knew very well that 
the chief was making excuses, and would not surrender 
Suzanne to him. For a while he had kept himself calm, 
but when this knowledge came home to his mind his reason 
left him, and he grew more than commonly mad with rage 
and disappointment, for after all his crimes and toil Su- 
zanne was now as far from him as ever. Springing from 
his horse, but- still keeping the gun in his hand, he ran up 
to the triple ring of soldiers, pausing only at the hedge of 
assegais which shone about it. 

“ Open,” he said, “ open, you red dogs! ” but not a 
spear moved. Twice he ran round the circle, then he 
stopped and cried, “ Sihamba. Is Sihamba here ? ” 

“ Surely, Bull 'Head,” answered the little woman, walk- 
ing forward from where she stood behind the schimmel. 
“Where else should I be? I pray you, soldiers, draw a 
little way but not far apart, that yonder half-breed may 
satisfy his eyes with the sight of me. So, a little way, but 
not far, for I who know him like him best at a distance. 
Now, Bull Head,” she went on, “ what is it that you wish 
to talk about — the Englishman, Ralph Kenzie, the hus- 
band of Swallow yonder? You thought you killed him. 
Well, it was not so; I lifted him living from the water, and 
I, who am a doctoress, tell you that his wound is of no 
account, and that soon he will be strong again and seeking 
a word with you, Half-breed. No, not of him? Then 
perhaps it is of your hidden krantz and the new hut you 
built in it. Bah! I knew its secret long ago and — that 
hut has too wide a smoke-hole. Go back and ask him who 
guarded it if this is not true. What! Not of that either? 


188 


Then would you speak of the ride which we have taken? 
Ah! man, I thought at least that you were no coward, and 
yet even when you had us in your hand, you did not dare 
to face the Red Water which two women swam on one tired 
horse. Look at him, soldiers, look at the brave cross-bred 
chief who dared not swim his horse across one little 
stream.” 

Now while the soldiers laughed Swart Piet stamped 
upon the ground, foaming with rage, for Sihamba’s bitter 
words stuck in him like barbed assegais. 

“ Snake’s wife, witch! ” he screamed, “ I will catch you 
yet, and then you shall learn how slowly a woman may die, 
yes, and her also, and she shall learn other things, for if 
that husband of hers is not dead I will kill him before her 
eyes; I tell you I will follow you both through all Africa 
and across the sea if needful; yes, whenever you lie down to 
sleep, you may be sure that Piet Van Vooren is not far 
from you.” 

“ Do you say so?” mocked Sihamba. “Well, now I 
think of it you have no luck face to face with me, Half- 
breed, and were I you, I should look the other way when 
you saw me coming, for I who have the Sight tell you that 
when you behold the Walker-by-Moonlight for the last 
time, you will very soon become a walker in the darkness 
for ever. Bah! ” she went on, her clear voice rising to a 
cry. “Bastard, dog, thief, murderer that you are! I, Si- 
hamba, who have met and beaten you in every pool of the 
stream, will beat you for the last time where the stream 
falls into the sea. Be not deceived, yonder Swallow never 
shall be yours; for many and many a year after you are 
dead, your rival shall fold her close, and when men name 
your name they shall spit upon the ground. Nothing, 
nothing shall be yours, but shame and empty longing and 


189 


black death, and after it the woe of the wicked. Get you 
back to your secret krantz and your Kaffir wives, Half- 
breed, and tell them the tale of your ride, and of how you 
did not dare to face the foam of the Red Water.” 

How Van Yooren went mad indeed; so mad that, for- 
getting he was not on the lonely veldt, he lifted his gun 
and fired straight at Sihamba. But her eye was quick, and 
seeing the muzzle rise, she threw herself upon the ground, 
so that the ball passed over her. 

“ Why, Half-breed, have you even forgotten how to 
shoot? ” she called, springing to her feet again and mock- 
ing him. Then the voice of Sigwe broke in, for his anger 
was deep. 

“ One thing you have certainly forgotten, Bull Head,” 
he said, “that these two are my guests and wrapped in 
my kaross, and therefore from this hour we are enemies. 
Ho! men,” he cried to his guard, “ I spare Bull Head’s life 
because once we were friends, therefore do not take his 
life, but beat him and those with him out of my town with 
the shafts of your assegais, and if ever he sets foot within 
it again then use their blades upon him.” 

At their chief’s bidding the soldiers of the guard sprang 
forward, and, falling upon Van Yooren and those with 
him, they flogged them with sticks and the shafts of their 
spears until from head to foot they were nothing but blood 
and bruises, and thus they drove them out of the town of 
Sigwe back to the ford of the Red River. 

When they were gone Suzanne, who through it all had 
sat upon the horse watching in silence, now urged him 
forward to where Sigwe stood, and said: 

“ Chief, I thank you for that deed, and now, I pray you, 
give us food and a hut to rest in, for we are wet and hungry 
and worn out with long travel.” 


190 


So the guest masters led them into the fence of the 
town and gave them the guest hut, the largest in the kraal, 
and the best food that they had — milk and meal and beef 
and eggs, as much as they would of it. The schimmel also 
was fastened to a post in the little courtyard of the hut, 
and a Kaffir who once had served as groom to a white man 
washed him all over with warm water. Afterwards he was 
given a mash of meal to eat, and, later, when he was a little 
rested, his fill of good forage, which he ate gladly, for, 
though he was very tired and his legs were somewhat 
swollen, otherwise he was none the worse for that great 
ride. 

In the shelter of the hut Suzanne took off her clothes, 
remembering with a sort of wonder how she had put them 
on the morning of her marriage, which now seemed years 
ago, and bathed herself with water. Then Sihamba having 
given the garments to a waiting woman to wash, wrapped 
her in a soft kaross of fur, and after drinking some milk 
and eating a little, Suzanne laid herself down upon a mat- 
tress made of the husks of mealie cobs, and even as she 
thanked God Who had brought her safely through so many 
dangers past, and prayed Him to protect her in those that 
were to come, and to comfort the heart of her husband in 
his sickness and affliction, she fell asleep. When she saw 
her sleeping, but not before, Sihamba crept to her feet, for 
now that all was over she could scarcely walk, and laying 
herself down there slept also. 

All the rest of the day they slept, and all the night that 
followed, nor did they wake till sunrise of the next morn- 
ing when women of the household of the chief knocked 
upon the door-board to ask if they needed aught. Then 
they rose feeling well and strong again except for the 
stiffness of their limbs, and Suzanne clothed herself in the 


191 


garments that the woman had washed, combing her dark 
hair with a Kaffir comb. Afterwards they ate heartily 
of the good food that was brought to them and left the hnt 
to visit the schimmel that they found almost recovered and 
devouring Kaffir sugar-cane, though like themselves he was 
somewhat stiff. 

Presently, while they stroked and fondled him a messen- 
ger came, saying that if it pleased the lady Swallow, the 
chief Sigwe would take counsel with her in the place of 
audience. So after a little while they went, and as they 
passed out of the kraal fence, "Suzanne was received with a 
chiefs salute by the escort that was waiting for her. Then 
surrounding her and Sihamba, they led them to the place 
of audience, a circle of ground enclosed by a high double 
fence, and as Suzanne entered it once more all present 
there, including Sigwe himself, gave her the salute of 
chiefs. 

But though it was strange enough that such a thing 
should happen to a white woman, at the time Suzanne took 
little notice of the salute or aught else, for there standing 
before her, looking much bewildered and very weary, was 
none other than Zinti and with him Sihamba’s horse, and 
also that mule laden with goods, which they had abandoned 
in the wood nearly a hundred miles away, when they came 
face to face with Van Yooren and his riders and turned to 
begin their long flight for life and liberty. 


CHAPTER XXI 


THE VISION OF RALPH AND SUZANNE 

“ Sihamba,” said the chief Sigwe, “ this man who was 
found wandering upon the outskirts of the town, declares 
that he is your servant, and that he come to seek you. Is 
it so? ” 

“It is so, indeed, chief,” she answered, “though I 
scarcely expected to see him again,” and she told how they 
two and Zinti had parted. 

Then Zinti was commanded to tell his tale, and from it 
it seemed that after he had rested some hours in the kloof 
he crept to the mouth of it, and, hidden behind a stone, 
saw Swart Piet and his servants pass quite close to him on 
their homeward way. A sorry sight they were, for three 
of their horses were lame, so that the riders were obliged 
to walk and lead them, and the men themselves had been 
so bruised with the spear-shafts that they seemed more 
dead than alive. Swart Piet rode last of all, and just 
then he turned, and looking towards the peak shook his 
fist as though threatening it, and cursed aloud in Dutch 
and Kaffir. Indeed, Zinti said that his head and face were 
so swollen with blows that had it not been for his large 
round eyes he could not have known him, and Sihamba 
thought that very good tidings. 

Well, when they had gone Zinti took heart, for it was 
192 


193 


plain that they had been roughly handled, and had failed 
to catch his mistress or the Swallow. So he went hack to 
where he had left his horse eating a little grass, and since 
it was too weak to carry him he led it, following Van 
Vooren’s spoor backwards till in the evening he came to 
the ford of the Red River. Here he halted for the night, 
knee-haltering the horse, and leaving it loose to graze, 
though he himself had nothing to eat. At the first grey 
of dawn he awoke, and was astonished to see a second 
animal feeding with the horse, which proved to he none 
other than the mule that, as these creatures sometimes 
will, had followed the spoor of his companion, Sihamba’s 
horse, till it found it again. After this he crossed the 
drift, riding slowly and leading the mule till shortly after 
sunrise he came to the outskirts of the town where Sigwe’s 
watchmen found him and brought him to the chief. 

“ This man is a servant worth having,” said Sigwe when 
he had heard the story. “ Let food he given to him and 
to the beasts.” 

When Zinti had gone Sigwe spoke to Suzanne. 

“Lady Swallow,” he said, “as you have heard, by the 
command of the spirits of my ancestors speaking through 
the mouth of the diviner, while you are with us, you and 
not I are the captain of my army, and must lead it in this 
great war which I make against the Endwandwe. How 
the regiments are ready to march, and I ask if it he your 
pleasure that we should set out to-morrow at the dawn, for 
time presses, and the Endwandwe live very far away? ” 

“Your will is my will, chief,” she answered, for she 
could see no way of escape from this strange journey, “ hut 
I desire to learn the cause of this war which I must lead 
by the decree of the spirits of your ancestors.” 

How Sigwe gave an order to some attendants waiting 


194 


upon him, who went away to return presently leading with 
them a woman. This woman was about fifty years of age, 
very fat in person, sour-faced, yellow-toothed, and with 
one eye only. 

“ There is the cause,” exclaimed the chief, at the same 
time turning his hack upon the woman and spitting upon 
the ground as though in disgust. 

“ I do not understand,” said Suzanne. 

“ Then listen, Lady Swallow. Sikonyana, the chief of 
the Endwandwe, has a sister named Batwa, whose beauty 
is famous throughout all the world, and for her by my 
envoys I made an offer of marriage, intending that she 
should be my head wife, for I desired to be the husband 
of the most beautiful woman in the world.” 

“ I saw Batwa when she was still a child,” broke in 
Sihamba; “ indeed, she is my cousin, and it is true that she 
is most beautiful.” 

“ The chief Sikonyana,” went on Sigwe, “ answered me 
that he was much honoured by my offer since he knew 
me to be the greatest man of all this country, but that at 
the same, time his sister was not to be won with a small 
price; yet if I would send a thousand head of cattle, half 
of them black and half white, she should be mine. Then 
with much pain I collected these cattle, two years did 
it take me to gather them together, for here oxen and cows 
pure white and pure black are not common, and I sent 
them with an impi to guard them, for nothing less would 
suffice, to the kraal of the chief of the Endwandwe. 

“ Four moons was that impi gone, while I awaited its 
return, eating out my heart with impatience. At length it 
did return, bringing with it my bride. At nightfall it 
marched into the town hungry and tired, for it had suf- 
fered much upon the journey, and twice had been forced 


195 


to give battle to the armies of other chiefs, but although 
I was eager to see her I did not look upon my new wife 
that night. No, I sent out messengers and gathered to- 
gether all my army and all the people young and old, 
yonder in the plain of assembly. Then when they were 
mustered from far and near, I commanded that Batwa, the 
sister of Sikonyana, should be produced in the face of the 
people that her loveliness might shine upon me and upon 
them as the sun shines equally upon us all. 

“ Lady Swallow, the moment came, and this old woman 
was brought out; yes, she strutted before us proudly, this 
one-eyed hag, this cat of the mountains. For her I had 
sent an impi, for her I had paid a thousand head of cattle, 

half of them pure black and half pure white ” and 

Sigw^e ceased, gasping with rage. 

Now at this story Suzanne, who had not smiled for days, 
laughed aloud, while even Sihamba the wise looked down 
studying the earth. But there was one who did not laugh, 
and it was the one-eyed woman. No, she sprang up and 
screamed aloud: 

“ Dog of a red Kaffir, who are you that dare to talk 
thus of a princess of the blood of the Endwandwe, a prin- 
cess whom Chaka, the great king, wished to take to wife? 
You asked for Batwa in marriage, Batwa, the sister to 
Sikonyana, and I am Batwa the sister of Sikonyana.” 

“ Then, hag, there must be two Batwas,” shouted Sigwe 
in answer. 

“ Two Batwas! ” she screamed. “ Fool and beast, there 
are four ! In our race all the women of royal blood are 
named Batwa, and I am the eldest and the wisest and the 
best of them, for I am older than my brother Sikonyana 
by twenty years, I, who have had three husbands and out- 
lived them all; whereas the chit of whom you talk, a thing 


196 


with a waist like a reed and an eye like a sick buck, is his 
junior by ten years, being a child of onr father’s last wife.” 

“ It may be so/’ answered Sigwe, “ for anght I know, 
every woman of your accursed tribe is named Batwa, but 
this I say, that very soon there will be few Batwas left to 
look upon the sun, for to-morrow I march against them 
and I will stamp the house of Batwa flat, and you I will 
hang to the roof-tree of the hut of the chief your brother; 
yes, I keep you alive that I may hang you there, so until 
then you have nothing to fear from me.” 

“ Is it so, is it so, indeed? ” shrieked the virago, “ then 
I am safe, for, little red Kaffir, I shall live to see you and 
your cowards beaten out of the country of the Endwandwe 
with whips of hide.” 

“ Take her away,” groaned Sigwe, “ before I break my 
word and hang her at once, which I do not wish to do,” 
and Batwa the eldest was led off still screaming curses. 

When she had gone, after consulting apart for a while 
with Sihamba, Suzanne spoke. 

“ Now, chief,” she said, “ I understand the cause of 
this war and in truth it is a strange one. Still, as I must 
lead your armies, and as I do not love to see men killed 
for such a quarrel, here and before we start, I will lay 
down the terms of peace if it should please Sikonyana and 
the people of the Endwandwe to accept them. Subject 
to your wisdom they shall be these: If Sikonyana will 
give to you that Batwa whom you desire in the place of 
the Batwa whom you do not desire, paying back to you the 
thousand head of cattle and by way of fine for his deceit, 
if indeed he meant to deceive you, for you do not seem to 
have told him which of the many Batwas you sought, two 
thousand other head of cattle, then no blo*od shall be shed 


197 


and yon and yonr impi shall return in peace and honour. 
If he will not do this, then the war must go as it is fated. 
Say, do you consent as I counsel you to do, for otherwise, 
although I go with you my goodwill will not go, since I 
am the Swallow of peace and not the Hawk of war.” 

How there followed a great indaba or debate between 
Sigwe and his counsellors and captains, some of them tak- 
ing one view of the matter, and some of them the other, 
but the end of it was that the party of peace prevailed, it 
being agreed between them that if the Endwandwe would 
grant these terms and in addition an ox for every man 
who might die or be killed upon the journey, the impi 
should return without putting the matter to the chance of 
war, and this the chief and his counsellors swore solemnly 
to Suzanne. Indeed Sigwe was glad to swear it, for he 
sought that Batwa for whom he longed rather than the 
dangers of battle and the risk of defeat in a far land, while 
those who were for fighting at all costs thought that the 
oath meant little, since they did not believe that the great 
Sikonyana would make peace upon such terms. 

When this matter was settled Suzanne prayed the chief 
that he would allow her to send Zinti as a messenger to- 
her husband and father to tell them that she lived and was 
well. But on this matter, and this only, Sigwe would not 
listen to her, and though he gave many reasons for his 
refusal, the true one was that he feared lest the white men, 
on learning her whereabouts, should gather a commando 
and send it to take her from him, as doubtless we should 
have done had it been in any way possible. 

Indeed, the foolish dream of the diviner as to the lead- 
ing of his army by a white swallow, followed as it chanced 
to be by the arrival at his town of a woman who was 
named Swallow, had taken such a hold of Sigwe — who. 


198 


like all savages, was very superstitious — that for nothing 
which could have been offered to him would he have 
•consented to let Suzanne go until the war with the End- 
wandwe was finished. Rather than do so he would have 
fought till the last, and he issued an order that if any man, 
woman, or child spoke of Suzanne’s presence in his town 
to strangers they should he put to death without mercy. 
Moreover in his terror, lest she should escape, he set a 
guard over her and Sihamba day and night and other 
guards over the horses and the lad Zinti, so that they soon 
learned that all hopes of flight must be abandoned and that 
it was not possible even to send a messenger or a letter. 

As may be guessed this was a sore grief to Suzanne, so 
great a grief that when they were back in the guest-hut 
.she wept long and bitterly, for her heart ached with her 
own sorrow, and she knew well how deep would be the 
torment of mind of Ralph if he still lived, and of us, her 
father and mother, when we learned that she had vanished 
quite away, and that none could tell what her fate had 
been. At first she thought of bidding Zinti slip away 
under cover of the night, but Sihamba showed her that 
even if he could do so, which was not likely, the end of it 
must be that he would be followed and put to death, and 
that then his blood would be upon their hands and no 
good done. Afterwards she tried to bribe and to command 
several men of her guard to take the message, but in this 
matter alone the people of Sigwe would not obey her, for 
they knew the doom which awaited them if they listened 
to her pleading. So, when she spoke, they looked into the 
air over her head, and did not seem to hear, although after- 
wards they reported her words to Sigwe, whereupon that 
chief doubled the guard, setting a second to watch the 
first. 


199 


And now I have to tell you one of the strangest things 
in the strange story of the love of Ealph Kenzie and my 
daughter Suzanne. It will be remembered that it was by 
means of a dream — or so the child declared — that Suzanne 
was led to where the boy Ealph lay alone and starving in 
the kloof. So now in this second great crisis of their lives, 
it was by means of a dream that comfort was brought to 
the hearts of both of them, enabling them, as I believe, to 
bear the terrors of those long years of tidingless terror and 
separation, that otherwise would have broken down their 
minds and perhaps have killed them. 

It seems, as Suzanne told me in after days, that before 
she slept that night, there in the guest-hut of Sigwe, she 
prayed long and earnestly as those who have faith do pray 
when they lie under the shadow of an overwhelming grief. 
She prayed that God would bring about what she was un- 
able to bring about, namely, that her husband should learn 
that she was unharmed and well, and that she might learn 
how it went with him, seeing that for aught she knew, by 
now he might be dead of his wounds. Well, that prayer 
was heard, for I myself can testify to it, as the prayer of 
faith is so often heard; yes, that which seemed to be im- 
possible was done, for in the watches of the night these two 
who lay a hundred miles apart, one of them a prisoner in 
the town of a savage, and the other helpless upon a bed of 
pain, had sight and speech of each other. 

Still praying, Suzanne fell asleep. Then of a sudden 
it seemed as though space had no bars for her, for she 
awoke, or thought that she awoke, in the guest-hut of 
Sigwe, since she could hear the breathing of Sihamba at 
her side, and stretching out her hand she touched her face. 
But in the twinkling of an eye there came a change, for, 
still wide awake, now she was standing in the stead at 


200 


home just within the door of her own sleeping-room. 
There upon the bed lay her husband, fevered and uncon- 
scious, but muttering to himself, while bending over him 
were I, her mother, and a strange man whom she did not 
hnow, but who, as she guessed, must have been roused 
from his sleep, for his hair was dishevelled and he was 
half-clothed. 

To this man she heard me talking. “ The fever runs so 
high, doctor,” I said, “ that I made bold to wake you from 
your rest, for I fear lest it should burn his life away.” 
Thereupon she saw the man look at Ralph, feeling his 
pulse, and heard him answer as he examined. the bandages 
of the wound, “ His hurt does well, and I do not think 
that the fever comes from it. It comes from his mind, 
and it is there that the danger lies, for who can doctor a 
broken heart ? ” 

“ Heaven only,” I replied. 

“ Yes,” he said, “ Heaven only. And now, Vrouw Bot- 
mar, go and rest awhile, hoping for the best, for you will 
hear him if he wakes up, but he will not wake since the 
sleep-draught that I gave him holds him fast.” 

Then she saw us both go — the doctor back to his bed 
and me to a settle with a mattress on it, which was placed 
just outside his door. 

Here I would stop my tale to say that this thing hap- 
pened y and that those words which Suzanne heard while her 
body lay in Sigwe’s guest-hut, passed between the doctor, 
who was sleeping at the stead, and myself at one o’clock 
of the morning on the third night after the night of the 
taking of Suzanne, and moreover, that I never spoke of 
them to any living creature until Suzanne repeated them to 
me in later years. Nor could the doctor have repeated 
them, for he went away to the province of Graff Reinet, 


201 


where shortly afterwards he was killed by a fall from his 
horse. 

Then it seemed to Suzanne that she moved to the bed- 
side of her husband, and bending down, kissed him upon 
the forehead, which was hot to her lips, saying, “Awake, 
dear love.” Instantly, in her vision, he awoke with a 
cry of joy, and said, “ Suzanne, how came you here?” to 
which she answered, “ I am not here. I have escaped un- 
harmed from Swart Piet, but I am a prisoner in the hands 
of red Kaffirs, and to-morrow I lead their army far to the 
north. Yet it has been permitted me to visit you, husband, 
and to tell you to be of good comfort and to fear no evil 
tidings, for you will recover and we shall meet again, un- 
harmed in any way, though not till many days are passed.” 

“ Where shall we meet ? ” he asked. “ I do not know,” 
she answered. “ Yes, I see now. Look before you.” Then 
they looked, both of them, and there painted in the air 
they saw the picture of a great mountain, standing by itself 
upon a plain, but with other mountains visible to the 
north and south of it. This mountain was flat-topped, 
with. precipices of red rock, and down its eastern slope ran 
five ridges shaped like the thumb and fingers of a mighty 
hand, while between the thumb and the first finger, as it 
were, a stream gushed out, upon the banks of which grew 
flat-topped trees with thick green leaves and white bloom. 

“ You have seen and you will remember, fearing noth- 
ing,” she said. 

“I have seen and I shall remember, fearing nothing,” 
Ralph answerd, and with the sound of his voice still echo- 
ing in her ears, Suzanne awoke in the guest-hut of Sigwe, 
and once more heard Sihamba breathing at her side, and 
felt the hand which she had outstretched to find her, 
pressed against her cheek. But now there was a new sense 


202 


of comfort in her heart, for she believed that without any 
doubt she had seen her husband, and that although they 
were separated, still the day would come when they should 
meet again, not in the spirit but in the flesh. 

Now I, Suzanne Botmar,. who tell this tale, had scarcely 
left Ralph’s room upon that very night and laid myself 
down upon the settle when he called to me. I ran hack to 
the bed to find him sitting up in it wide awake and calm- 
eyed. 

“ Mother,” he said, for so he still named me, “ did you 
see Suzanne ? ” 

“ Hush, Ralph,” I answered, “ you are talking foolishly; 
wherever Suzanne may he, alas! she is not here.” 

“ She was here just now,” he said, smiling, “ for we have 
been talking together. She has escaped from Swart Piet 
and is unharmed, hut a prisoner among the Kaffirs. And, 
mother, she and I will meet again upon a great mountain 
like a fortress, which has ridges on its eastern side re- 
sembling the thumb and fingers of a man, and a stream of 
water gushing out between the thumb and first finger.” 

“ Doubtless, doubtless,” I said, for I saw that he was 
wandering in his mind. 

“Ah!” Ralph answered, “you do not believe me, but 
it is true. I tell you that I saw Suzanne just now wearing 
a fine kaross of tiger skins upon her shoulders, and that 
she kissed me on the forehead,” and even as he spoke he 
sank into a deep and quiet sleep, and when he awoke in 
the morning we found that the fever had left him. 


CHAPTER XXII 


THE WAR OF THE CLEAN SPEAR 

When Sihamba arose next day, Suzanne asked her if the 
home of her people, the Umpondwana, was a great moun- 
tain faced round with slab-sided precipices and having 
ridges on its eastern face like to the thumb and fingers of 
a hand, with a stream of water gushing from between the 
thumb and first finger, upon the hanks of which grew 
flat-topped trees with thick green leaves and white flowers. 

Sihamba stared at her, saying: 

“ Such is the place indeed, and there are no trees like 
to those you speak of to he found anywhere else. The 
maidens use the flowers of them to adorn their hair, and 
from the leaves is made a salve that is very good for 
wounds. But, say. Swallow, who told you about the moun- 
tain Umpondwana that is so far away, since I never 
described it to you?” 

“ Nobody told me,” she answered, and she repeated the 
vision to her, or as much of it as she wished. 

Sihamba listened, and when the tale was done she 
nodded her little head, saying: 

“ So even you white people have something of the power 
which has been given to us Kaffir witch-doctors from the 
beginning. Without a doubt your spirit spoke to the 
spirit of your husband last night and I am glad of it, for 

203 


204 


now, although you are apart from each other, the hearts of 
both of you will be rested. Now also I am sure that we 
must go to my people and live among them for so long as 
may he appointed, seeing that there and nowhere else you 
and the Baas Kenzie will come together again.” 

“ I had sooner go back to the stead,” sighed Suzanne. 

“ That cannot he, Swallow, for it is not fated, and for 
the rest, if you meet, what does it matter where you 
meet?” 


That morning Suzanne, mounted upon the great schim- 
mel, which by now had almost recovered from his weari- 
ness, although he was still somewhat stiff, and followed by 
Sihamba and Zinti riding the horse and the mule, passed 
up and down before Sigwe’s regiments that saluted her as 
chieftainess. Then amongst much wailing of women and 
children, the impi started northward, Suzanne, preceded 
only by scouts and a guard to feel the way, riding in front 
of it that .she might escape the dust raised by so many 
feet and the hoofs of the great herd of oxen that were 
driven along to serve as food for the soldiers. 

For fourteen days* journey they travelled thus, and dur- 
ing that time nothing of note happened to them, except 
that twelve men and Sihamha’s brown mule were lost in 
crossing a flooded river, whereof there were many in their 
path. The country through which they passed was popu- 
lated by Kaffirs, hut these tribes were too small and scat- 
tered to attempt to oppose so large an army, nor did the 
men of Sigwe do them any mischief beyond taking such 
grain and meal as they required for food. 

On the fourteenth day, however, they reached the 
boundary of the territories of a very powerful tribe of 
Pondo blood, and here they halted while messengers were 


205 


sent forward to the Pondo chief, saying that with him 
Sigwe had no quarrel, and asking for a safe-conduct for the 
army while passing through his lands. On the third day 
these messengers returned, accompanied by an embassy 
from the Pondo chief, that after much talk, though to all 
appearance unwillingly, gave Sigwe the promise of safe- 
conduct upon condition that he made a present of cere- 
mony of one ox to their ruler. Now Sihamba noticed that 
while the envoys were talking, their eyes wandered all 
about, taking note of every thing, and especially of the 
number of the soldiers and of Suzanne, who sat beside 
Sigwe during the indaba, or council. 

“ These are no true men,” she thought to herself, and 
made a plan. In the evening she visited the camp of the 
envoys who had heard already that she was a famous doc- 
toress, and offered her services to them for payment should 
any of them chance to need the boon of her magic arts. 
They laughed, answering that they wanted neither charms 
nor divinations, but that she should see a certain young 
man, a servant in their train, who was very sick with love 
and had bought philtres from every doctor in their coun- 
try without avail, wherewith to soften the heart of a girl 
who would have nothing to do with him. When Sihamba, 
without seeming to speak much of it, had drawn from 
them all that she wished to know of the story of this man 
and girl, and with it other information, though they won 
little enough from her, she took her leave, and so set her 
trap that at night when all were asleep the young man 
came to consult her in a place apart. 

Now she looked at him, and said at once, without suf- 
fering him to speak: 

“ Let me see. Your name is so-and-so, and you are in 
love with such a girl, who turns away from you; ” and she 


206 


went on to tell him things which he thought were known 
only to himself. 

“ Wonderful!” he said, “ wonderful! But say, lady 
doctoress, can you help me, for my heart is water because 
of this girl? ” 

“ It is difficult,” she answered. “ Do you know that 
when you come to consult a wise woman you should keep 
your mind fixed upon the matter about which you would 
take counsel with her from the first moment that you set 
out to visit her until you stand in her presence? Now this 
you have not done, for as you came you were thinking of 
other things; yes, you were thinking about the ambush 
which is to be set for these people in the pass yonder, and 
therefore I cannot see the girl’s heart clear, and do not quite 
know what medicine I should give you to soften it.” 

“ It is true, lady,” answered the stupid fellow, “ that I 
was thinking about the ambush of which I have heard some 
talk, though I do not know who told you of it.” 

“ Who told me ? Why to my sight your thoughts are 
written on your face, yes, they ran before you and reached 
me as I heard your footsteps. But now, think no more of 
that matter, which has nothing to do with you or me, think 
only of the girl, and go on thinking of her, and of her 
only, until you get back home, and give her the medicine — 
that is if you wish it to work.” 

“ I am thinking, lady,” he muttered, turning his stupid 
face up to the skies. 

“ Fool, be quiet. Do I not know that? Ah! now I see 
her heart, and I tell you that you are lucky, for when you 
have done as I bid you, she will love you more than if you 
were the greatest chief in all the land.” Then Sihamba 
gave him a certain harmless powder to sprinkle in the 
hut where the girl slept, and bade him wait for her on 


207 


six different days when she came up from bathing, giving 
her on each day a garland of fresh flowers, a new flower 
for every day. 

The man thanked her and asked what he must pay her 
for a fee, to which she replied that she Took no fee in 
matters of love, since her reward was to know that she had 
made two people happy; hut, she added: 

“ Eemember what I tell you, or instead of earning love 
you will earn hate. Say nothing of your visit to me, and if 
you can avoid it, do not speak at all until you have 
sprinkled the powder in the hut; especially put all things 
which do not concern you and her out of your mind and 
think only of her face and how happy you will be when 
you have married her, which, if you follow my instructions, 
you will shortly do.” 

Now the young man went away as though he were walk- 
ing upon air, and indeed so closely did he obey her that he 
was dismissed by his masters as a dumb fool before he 
reached home again. But whether or no Sihamba’s 
medicine softened the heart of the maid I have not 
heard. 

So soon as he was gone Sihamba sent Zinti to bring 
Sigwe and two of his generals to the place where she and 
Suzanne were encamped in a booth made of branches and 
long grass. When they were come, she told them what she 
had learned from the love-stricken lad, adding that this 
plan of making sure of what already she suspected, had 
been born in the brain of the Swallow, although she had 
carried it out. For when she deemed that she could serve 
her mistress or win her honour, Sihamba thought less of 
the truth than she should have done. 

On learning this tidings Sigwe and his captains were 


208 


full of wrath, and spoke of making war upon the Pondo 
chief at once, but Sihamba said: 

“ Listen; the Swallow has whispered a better way into 
my ear. It is this: the embassy of the Pondos leaves at 
dawn, and you must bid them farewell, telling them that 
you will follow and camp to-morrow night at the mouth 
of the pass, which you will enter at the next daybreak. 
Meanwhile now at once we will send out my servant, Zinti, 
dressed like a Pondo lad, to search the country, and find 
if there is not another path by which the pass can be 
turned, for if such a way exists he will discover it and 
report to us to-morrow at nightfall, since he, who is stupid 
in many things, was born with the gift of seeking out 
roads and remembering them; also he knows how to be 
silent if questioned.” 

The chief and his captains thought this plan good, and 
thanked the Swallow for it, praising her wisdom, and 
within an hour, having been instructed what he must do 
and where he should meet them, Zinti was despatched upon 
his errand. 

Next morning the envoys departed suspecting nothing, 
and taking with them gifts and the ox of ceremony; and 
that night the army of Sigwe encamped within a mile of 
the pass, to the right and left of which stretched tall and 
difficult cliffs. 

About an hour after sunset Zinti crept into the camp 
and asked for food to eat, for he had travelled far and 
was hungry; moreover, he had been chased by some Pondo 
soldiers to whom, feigning the fool he was commonly sup- 
posed to be, he would make no answer when they ques- 
tioned him. When he had eaten he made his report to 
Sigwe, Suzanne, and Sihamba, and the gist of it was that 
he had found a good road by which men might safely 


209 


ascend the cliffs, though not so easily as they could travel 
through the gorge. Following this road, he added, they 
could pass round the Pondo town, avoiding its fortifica- 
tions, and coming out at the cattle kraals at the hack of the 
town, for he had climbed a high tree and mapped out the 
route with his eye. Then followed a council of war, and 
the upshot of it was that, under the leadership of Zinti, 
the army marched off in silence an hour before midnight, 
leaving its cooking fires burning to deceive the Pondos. 

They climbed the cliffs by the path he showed them, 
and, travelling all night, at dawn found themselves before 
the cattle kraals, which, as no enemy was expected, were 
unguarded except by the herds. These they cleared of the 
cattle, some thousands of them, and marched on at speed, 
sending a message hack to the town by the herds that this 
was the luck which those must expect who attempted to 
trap the Swallow in a snare set for a rock-rabbit. 

The Pondos w T ere very angry at their loss, and, gather- 
ing their strength, followed them for some days, hut before 
they could come up with them Sigwe and his army had 
reached country so difficult and so far away that the Pondo 
chief thought it wisest to leave them alone. So they 
marched on, taking the captured cattle with them, and 
after this bloodless victory Suzanne and Sihamba were 
greatly honoured by the soldiers, and even the lad Zinti 
was treated like a chief. 

Now once more they reached wild lands, inhabited only 
by scattered tribes, and passed through them at their 
leisure, for they had plenty of food to eat, although from 
time to time they were obliged to encamp upon the hanks 
of flooded rivers, or to hunt for a road over a mountain. 
It was on the thirty-first day of their journey that at length 
they entered the territories of the Endwandwe, against 


210 


whom they had come to make war, where at once they were 
met by messengers sent by Sikonyana, the chief of the 
Endwandwe, desiring to know why they came upon him 
with so great a force. To these men the case was set out 
b}^ Sigwe speaking in his own name and in that of the 
Swallow. As he had promised Suzanne, for this was a 
savage who kept his word, he offered to refrain from at- 
tack if the young Batwa was exchanged for her one-eyed 
sister and sent to him, together with the thousand head of 
cattle which he had paid, and two thousand more by way 
of fine. At first these terms were refused, but afterwards 
an embassy came of whom the captain was the brother of 
the king, who said that he was charged to discuss this 
matter with the white chieftainess named Swallow, herself, 
and with none other. 

So Suzanne, accompanied only by Sihamba, and mounted 
upon the great schimmel that had come safe and well 
through all the journey, though the black horse had died 
of sickness* rode out a hundred paces in front of the army 
and met the man. There she spoke to him well and wisety, 
pointing out to him that without doubt a trick had been 
played upon Sigwe which he was mad to avenge. The 
captain answered that they were well able to fight. She 
replied that this might be so, that they might even con- 
quer Sigwe and drive him back, but it could not be done 
without great loss to themselves, and that if his tribe were 
at all weakened the Zulus who hated them, would hear of 
it, and take the opportunity to stamp them out. 

Well, the end of it was that the Endwandwe yielded, and 
upon the promise of Suzanne — for they would take no 
other — that no spear should be lifted against them, they 
sent the true Batwa, a beautiful but sullen girl, to Sigwe, 
taking back the old Batwa, who departed cursing him and 


211 


all his race. With her they returned also the thousand 
head of cattle which he had paid and twelve hundred more 
hy way of fine, for the balance was remitted by agreement. 

And so came to an end the war of Sigwe with the End- 
wandwe, which among the Kaffirs is still spoken of as the 
“ War of the White Swallow,” or sometimes as “ The War 
of the Clean Spear,” because no blood at all was shed in 
it, and not a man was killed by violence, although when 
Sigwe passed through that country on his journey home, 
by means of a clever trick the Pondo chief re-captured 
most of the cattle that had been taken from him. 


CHAPTER XXIII 


HOW SUZANNE BECAME A CHIEFTAINESS 

So the cattle were handed over, and the girl Batwa given 
to Sigwe, whom by the way she made unhappy for the rest 
of his days. Indeed, she brought about his ruin, for being 
ambitious she persuaded him to make war upon the white 
people in the Transkei, of which the end was that from a 
great chief he became a very small one. When all was 
accomplished Sigwe waited upon Suzanne. 

“ Lady Swallow,” he said, “ in three days I begin my 
homeward march, and now I have come to ask whither you 
wish to go, since you cannot stop here in the veldt alone.” 

“ I would return with you to the Transkei,” she an- 
swered, “ and seek out my own home.” 

“ Lady,” he said shamefacedly, “alas! that may not be. 
You remember the dream of the diviner, and you know 
how that all which she foretold, and more, has come to 
pass, for you, the White Swallow, appeared and flew in 
front of my impi, and from that hour we have had the best 
of luck. By your wisdom we outwitted the Pondos and 
seized their cattle; by your wisdom we have conquered the 
Endwanclwe without lifting a single spear, and that Batwa, 
whom I desired, is mine; while of the great force which 
came out with me to war hut twenty-and-one are dead, 
twelve by drowning, eight by sickness, and one by snake- 

212 


213 


bite. All things have gone well, and she who dreamed the 
dream of the White Swallow is the greatest of diviners. 

“ But, lady, this was not all the dream, for it said that 
if you, the Swallow, should set your face southward with 
us then the best of luck would turn to the worst, for then 
utter misfortune should overwhelm me and my regiments* 
^ow, lady, I cannot doubt that as the first part of the. 
prophecy has come true, so the last part would come true 
also did I tempt the spirits of my ancestors by disregard- 
ing it, and, therefore, White Swallow, though all I have 
is yours, yet you cannot fly home with us.” 

Now Suzanne pleaded with him long and earnestly, as 
did Sihamba, but without avail, for he could not be moved. 
Indeed, had he consented the captains and the army would 
have disobeyed his order in this matter, for they believed, 
every man of them, that to take the Swallow with them 
homewards would be to run to their own deaths. Nor was 
it safe that she should attempt to follow in the path of the 
impi, since then in their superstitious fear they might send 
back and kill her to avert the evil fate. 

“ Now, Swallow,” said Sihamba, “ there is but one thing 
for us to do, and it is to seek refuge among my people,, 
the Umpondwana, whose mountain stronghold lies at a. 
distance of four days* journey from this place. But to 
speak truth, I am not sure how they will receive me, seeing 
that I parted from them in anger twelve years ago, having 
quarrelled with them, first about a matter of policy, and 
secondly about a matter of marriage, and that my half- 
brother, the son of my father by a slave, was promoted to 
rule in my place. To them we must go, and with them 
we must stay, if they will suffer it, until we find an oppor- 
tunity of travelling south in safety.” 

“ If it must be so,” answered Suzanne, sighing, “ per- 


214 


haps Sigwe will escort us to the house of the Umpondwana 
before he turns homewards, for they will think the more 
of us if they see us at the head of a great army.” 

To this plan Sigwe and his captains assented with glad- 
ness, for they loved and honoured the Swallow, and were 
sore at heart because their fears forced them to leave her 
alone in the wilderness. But first they made sure that the 
mountain Umpondwana lay to the west, and not to the 
south, for not one step to the southward would they allow 
Suzanne to travel with them. 

On the morrow, then, they marched, and the evening of 
the third day they set their camp in a mountain pass which 
led to a wide plain. Before sunrise next morning Sihamba 
w r oke Suzanne. 

“ Dress yourself. Swallow,” she said, “ and come to see 
the light break on the house of my people.” 

So they wxnt out in the grey dawn, and climbing a 
koppie in the mouth of the pass, looked before them. At 
first they could distinguish nothing, for all the plain be- 
neath was a sea of mist through which in the distance 
loomed something like a mountain, till presently the rays 
of the rising sun struck upon it and the veils of vapour 
parted like curtains that are drawn back, and there before 
them was the mountain-fortress of Umpondwana separated 
from the pass by a great space of mist-clad plain. Suzanne 
looked and knew it. 

“ Sihamba,” she said, “ it is the place of my vision and 
none other. See, the straight sides of red rock, the five 
ridges upon the eastern slope fashioned like the thumb and 
fingers of the hand of a man. Yes, and there between the 
thumb and first finger a river runs.” 

“ I told you that it was so from the beginning, Swallow, 
for in all the country there is no other such hill as this, 


215 


and because of the aspect of those ridges when seen 
from a distance it is named the Mountain of the Great 
Hand.” 

Before the words had left her lips another voice spoke, 
at the sound of which Suzanne nearly fell to the earth. 

“ Good day to you, Suzanne,” it said in Dutch and was 
silent. 

“ Sihamba, did you hear, Sihamba? ” she gasped. “ Do 
I dream, or did Piet Van Yooren speak to me?” 

“ You did not dream,” answered Sihamba, for that voice 
was the voice of Swart Piet and no other, and he is hidden 
somewhere among the rocks of yonder cliff wall. Quick, 
Swallow, kneel behind this stone lest he should shoot.” 

She obeyed, and at that moment the voice spoke again 
out of the shadows of the cliff that bordered the pass 
twenty or thirty paces from them. 

“ What, Suzanne,” it said, “ is that little witch doctoress 
telling you that I shall fire on you? Had I wished I could 
have shot you three times over while you were standing 
upon that rock. But why should I desire to kill one who 
will be my lover? Sihamba I wished to shoot indeed, but 
her familiar set her so that the bullet must pass through 
you to reach her heart. Suzanne, you are going to hide 
yourself among the people of the Umpondwana. Oh! yes, 
I know your plan. Well, when once you are behind the 
walls of that mountain it may be difficult to speak to you 
for a while, so listen to me. You thought that you had 
left me far away, did you not, but I have followed you step 
by step and twice I have been very near to you, although 
I could never find a chance to carry you off safely. Well, 
I wish to tell you that sooner or later I shall find that 
chance; sooner or later you will come out of the mountain 
or I shall get into it, and then it will be my turn, so, love, 


216 


till that hour fare you well. Stay, I forgot, I have news 
for you; your husband, the English castaway, is dead.” 

At this tidings a low moan of pain broke from Suzanne’s 
lips. 

“ Be silent and take no heed,” whispered Sihamba, who 
was kneeling at her side behind the shelter of the stone, 
“ he does but lie to torment you.” 

“ The bullet and the w^ater together were too much for 
him,” went on Swart Piet, “ and he died on the second 
night after he reached the stead. Your father came to 
seek me in the place you know, and was carried home badly 
wounded for his pains, but whether he lived or died I 
cannot tell you, but I heard that your mother, the good 
Yrouw Botmar, is very sick, for things have so fallen out 
lately that her mind is troubled, and she flies to drink to 
comfort it.” 

Now when she heard this, Sihamba could keep silence 
no longer, but cried in a mocking voice: 

“ Get you gone, Bull Head, and take lessons in lying 
from your friends of my trade, the Kaffir witch-doctors, 
for never before did I hear a man bear false witness so 
clumsily. On the third night of his illness the husband of 
Swallow was alive and doing well; the Heer Jan Botmar 
was not wounded at all, and as for the Yrouw Botmar, 
never in her life did she drink anything stronger than 
coffee, for the white man’s firewater is poison to her. Get 
you gone, you silly half-breed, who seek to deceive the 
ears of Sihamba, and I counsel you, hold fast to your 
business of theft and murder and give up that of lying, 
in which you will never succeed. How be off, you stink- 
cat of the rocks, lest I send some to hunt you from your 
hole who this time will use the points and not the shafts 
of their assegais. Come, Swallow, let us be going.” 


217 


So they went, keeping under cover all the way to the 
camp, which, indeed, was quite close to them, and if Swart 
Piet made any answer they did not hear it. So soon as 
they reached it Sihamba told Sigwe what had passed and 
he sent men to scour the cliff and the hush behind it, hut 
of Van Yooren they could find no trace, no, not even the 
spot where he had been hidden, so that Sigwe came to 
believe that they had been fooled by echoes and had never 
heard him at all. 

But both Suzanne and Sihamba knew that this was not 
so; indeed, this hearing of the voice of Swart Piet filled 
Suzanne with fear, since where the voice was, there was 
the man, her hateful enemy, who had given his life to her 
ruin and to that of those she loved. Whatever lies he 
might have spoken — and her heart told her that all his 
ill tidings were but a cruel falsehood — this at least was 
true, that he had dogged her step by step through the vast 
wilderness, and so craftily that none guessed his presence. 
What might not he feared from such a foe as this, half 
mad and all wicked, armed with terrible cunning and un- 
tiring patience? If the Umpondwana would not receive 
her she must fall into his hands at once, and if they did 
receive her she would never dare to leave their kraal, for 
always, always he would be watching and waiting for her. 
Little wonder then that she felt afraid, though, just as the 
sun shines ever behind the blackest cloud, still in her heart 
shone the sure comfort of her hope, and more than hope 
that in the end God would give her hack her husband and 
her to him unharmed. Yet, whichever way she looked the 
cloud was very black, and through it she could see no ray 
of light. 

When the mists had vanished and the air was warm with 


218 


the sun, the army of Sigwe marched from the pass heading 
for the great mountain. As they drew near they saw that 
the Umpondwana were much terrified at the sight of them, 
for from all the kraals, of which there were many on the 
slopes of the mountain, they ran hither and thither like 
ants about a broken nest, carrying their goods and children 
upon their shoulders, and driving herds of cattle in towards 
the central stronghold. Noting this Sigwe halted and sent 
heralds forward to say that he came in peace and not in 
war, and he desired to speak with their chief. In less than 
two hours the heralds returned, bringing with them some 
of the headmen of the Umpondwana, who stared round 
with frightened eyes, for they did not believe that any 
general would come upon a message of peace with so many 
regiments. When the indaba was set Sigwe told them his 
name and tribe, of both of which they had heard, and 
then before speaking of his business, asked which of them 
was the chief of the Umpondwana. 

“ Alas ! 99 answered an old man, “ we are in sore trouble 
here, and wander in the darkness, for our chief, who was 
named Koraanu, died two days ago of the small-pox which 
has raged among us for many months, leaving no children 
behind him, for the sickness killed them also. Moreover, 
we are suffering from a great drought, for as you may see, 
the veldt is still brown, and there is no green upon the 
cornfields, and if rain does not fall soon famine will follow 
the sickness, and then it will only need that the Zulus 
should follow the famine to make an end of us once and 
for all.” 

“ It seems that your tribe must have sinned deeply and 
brought down upon itself the curse of the spirits of its 
ancestors,” said Sigwe, when they had done their melan- 
choly tale, “ that so many misfortunes should overtake 


219 


you. Tell me now, who by right is ruler of the Umpond- 
wana? ” 

“We do not know, chief,” they answered, “ or rather, 
we cannot tell if our ruler is alive or dead, and if she is 
dead then none are left of the true blood. She was a small 
woman, but very pretty and full of wisdom as a mealie- 
cob with grains of corn, for in all this country there was 
no doctoress or diviner like to her. Her name was Sihamba 
Ngenyanga, the Wanderer-by-Moonlight, which name was 
given her when she was little, because of her habit of 
walking in the dark alone, and she was the only child of 
our late chiefs irikosikaas , a princess of the Swazis, the 
father of that lord, Koraanu, who lies dead of the small- 
pox. But when this chief died and Sihamba was called 
upon to rule our tribe, quarrels arose between her and the 
indunas of the tribe, for she was a very headstrong woman. 

“ We, the indunas, wished her to marry, but for her own 
reasons she would not marry; also we wished to swear 
allegiance to Chaka, but she was against it, saying that as 
well might a lamb swear allegiance to a wolf as the Um- 
pondwana to the Zulus. The end of it was that in a 
temper she took a bowl of water, and before us all washed 
her hands of us, and that same night she vanished away 
we know not where, though rumours have reached us that 
she went south. From the day of her departure, however, 
things have gone ill with us; the Zulus with whom we made 
peace threaten us continually; her half-brother, Koraanu, 
the slave-born, was not a good chief, and now he is dead of 
the sickness. So our heart is heavy and our head is in the 
dust, and when we saw your impi we thought that Dingaan, 
who now rules over the Zulus, had sent it to eat us up 
and to take the cattle that still remain to us. 

“ But you say that you come in peace, so tell us, chief, 


220 


what it is you desire, and I trust that it may he little, for 
here we have nothing to give, unless,” he added with mean- 
ing, “ it be the small-pox, although we are ready to fight 
to the death for what is left to us, our liberty and our 
cattle; and, chief, even a larger army than yours might fail 
to take that stronghold which has but one gate.” 

When the councillor had finished speaking, Sigwe called 
-*aloud: 

“ Lady Sihamba, I pray you come hither, and with you 
the lady Swallow, your companion.” 

Then Sihamba, who was prepared for this event, for 
her hair was freshly dressed and powdered with blue mica, 
wearing her little cape of fur and the necklace of large^ 
blue beads, stepped from the screen of bush behind which 
she had hidden. With her, and holding her hand, came 
Suzanne, who covered the raggedness of her clothes be- 
neath a splendid kaross of leopard’s skins that Sigwe had 
given her, down which her dark hair flowed almost to her 
knee. A strange pair they made, the tall Suzanne in the 
first bloom of her white beauty which had suffered nothing 
in their journeying, and the small, quick-eyed, delicate- 
featured Kaffir woman. 

“ Who are these ? ” asked Sigwe of the council. 

The old man looked at them and answered: 

“ Of the white lady we can say nothing except that she 
is very beautiful; but, unless our eyes deceive us, she whom 
she holds by the hand is Sihamba Ngenyanga, who was 
our chief tainess, and who left us because she was angry.” 

“ She is Sihamba and no one else,” said Sigwe. “ Si- 
hamba come back to rule you in the hour of need, and now 
with her own tongue she shall tell you her story and the 
story of the White Swallow who holds her by the hand.” 

So Sihamba began, and for an hour or more she spoke 


221 


to them, for when she chose this little woman had the gift 
of words, telling them all abont herself, and telling them 
also the story of the Swallow, and of how she had brought 
good luck to the army of Sigwe, and how she was destined 
to bring good luck wherever she made her home. At the 
end of her speech she said: 

“ Now, my people, although I have wandered from you 
yet my eyes, which are far-seeing, have not been blind to 
your griefs, and in the hour of your need I return to you, 
bringing with me the White Swallow to sojourn among you 
for a while. Receive us if you will and be prosperous, or 
reject us and be destroyed; to us it matters nothing, it is 
for you to choose. But if we come, we come not as ser- 
vants but as princes whose word cannot be questioned, 
and should you accept us and deal ill with us in any way, 
then your fate is sure. Ask the chief Sigwe here whether 
or no the flight of the Swallow is fortunate, and whether 
or no there is wisdom in the mouth of Sihamba, who is not 
ashamed to serve her/’ 

Then Sigw^e told them of all the good fortune that had 
come to him through Suzanne, and of how wise had been 
the words of Sihamba, and told them, moreover, that if 
they dealt ill by either of them he would return from his 
own country and stamp them flat. 

Thus it came about that the indunas of the Umpond- 
wana took back Sihamba to be their chieftainess with all 
powers, and with her Suzanne as her equal in rule, and this 
their act was confirmed that same day by a great council 
of the tribe. So that evening Suzanne, mounted on the 
sehimmel, rode down the ranks of the Red Kaffirs, while 
they shouted their farewells to her. Then having parted 
with Sigwe, who almost wept at her going, she passed 


222 


with Sihamba, the lad Zinti, and a great herd of cattle — 
her tithe of the spoil — to the mountain Umpondwana, 
where all the tribe were waiting to receive them. They 
rode up to the flanks of the mountain, and through the 
narrow pass and the red wall of rock to the tableland upon 
its top, where stood the chiefs huts and the cattle-kraal, 
and here they found the people gathered. 

“ Give us a blessing,” these cried. “ Grant to us that 
rain may fall.” 

Sihamba spoke with Suzanne and answered: 

“ My people, I have entreated of the White Swallow, and 
for your sake she will pray that rain may fall ere long.” 

Now Sihamba knew the signs of the weather, and as it 
happened rain began to fall that night in torrents, and fell 
for three days almost without ceasing, washing the sick- 
ness away with it. So the TJmpondwana blessed the name 
of Sihamba and the White Swallow, and these two ruled 
over them without question, life and death hanging upon 
their words. 

And there, a chieftainess among savages, Suzanne was 
fated to dwell for more than two long years. 


CHAPTER XXIV 


THE MADNESS OF RALPH KENZIE 

Now my story goes back to that night at the stead when 
I, Suzanne Botmar and my husband, Jan Botmar, were 
awakened from our sleep to learn that our daughter had 
been carried oh by that mad villain, Piet Yan Yooren, and 
that her husband Ralph lay senseless and wounded in the 
waggon at the door. We carried him in, groaning in our 
bitter grief, and despatched messengers to arouse all the 
Kaffirs on and about the place whom we could trust and 
to a party of Boers, six men in all, who chanced to have 
outspanned that night upon the borders of our farm to 
shoot vildebeest and blesbok. Also we sent another mes- 
senger mounted on a good horse to the house of that 
neighbour who was being attended by the doctor from the 
dorp, praying that he would come with all speed to visit 
Ralph, which indeed he did, for he was with us by half- 
past eight in the morning. 

Within an hour of the despatch of the messengers the 
Boers rode up from their waggons, and to them, as well as 
to ourselves and to the Kaffirs who had gathered, the 
driver and voorlooper told all they knew of the terrible 
crime that had been done upon the persons of Ralph 
Kenzie and his wife by Piet Yan Yooren and his band. 
Also they repeated all that Zinti had taught them of the 

223 


224 


road to the secret krantz whither it was believed that he 
had carried off Suzanne. Then Jan asked those present 
if they would help him in this trouble, and being true 
men, one and all, they answered yes, so by seven in the 
morning the little commando, numbering twenty-one guns 
— eight white men and thirteen Kaffirs — started to seek 
for Swart Piet’s hiding-place, and to rescue Suzanne if 
they might. 

“ Alas! ” I said to Jan as he bade me farewell, “ at the 
best I fear that you will be too late.” 

“ We must trust in God,” he answered heavily. 

“ Never had we more need of trust, husband, but I think 
that God turns His face from us because of the lies we told 
to the Englishmen, for now the punishment which you 
foresaw has fallen.” 

“ Then, wife, it were more just that it should have fallen 
on us who were guilty, and not on these two who are 
innocent. But still I say I trust in God — and in Sihamba ” 
— he added by an afterthought, “for she is brave and 
clever, and can run upon a path which others cannot even 
see.” 

Then they went, and were away five days, or it may have 
been six. They started early on Tuesday, and upon the 
Thursday morning, after much trouble, by the help of a 
native whom they captured, they found Swart Piet’s kraal, 
but of Swart Piet or Suzanne or the hidden krantz they 
could see nothing. Indeed, it was not until they had 
gathered together every man they could find in the kraal 
and tied them to trees saying that they would shoot them, 
that a woman, the wife of one of the men, led them to a 
rock wall and showed the secret of the kloof. They en- 
tered and found the big hut with the body of the man 
whom Sihamba had killed still lying in it, and also the 


225 


knife with which Suzanne had intended to destroy herself, 
and which her father knew again. 

Then by degrees they discovered the whole story, for the 
woman pointed out to them the man who had guarded the 
entrance to the kloof, at whom Zinti had fired, and under 
fear of death this man confessed all he knew, which was 
that Suzanne, Sihamba, and Zinti had escaped northward 
upon their horses, followed by Swart Piet and his band. 

Accordingly northwards they rode, but they never found 
any traces of them, for rain had fallen, washing out their 
spoor, and as might be expected in that vast veldt they 
headed in the wrong direction. So at last worn out, they 
returned to the stead, hoping that Suzanne and Sihamba 
would have found their way back there, but hoping in vain. 

After that for days and weeks they searched and hunted, 
but quite without result, for as it chanced the Kaffirs who 
lived between the territory of Sigwe and the stead rose in 
arms just then, and began to raid the Boer farms, stealing 
the cattle, including some of our own, so that it was im- 
possible to travel in their country, and therefore nobody 
ever reached the town of Sigwe to make inquiries there. 

The end of it was that, exhausted by search and sorrow, 
Jan sat down at home and abandoned hope; nor could the 
prayers and urgings of Ealph, who all this while was 
unable even to mount a horse, persuade him to go out 
again upon so fruitless an errand. 

“ No, son,” he answered, “ long before this the girl is 
either dead or she is safe far away, and in either event it 
is useless to look for her about here, since Van Vooren’s 
kraal is watched, and we know that she is not in it.” To 
which Ralph would answer: 

“ She is not dead, I know that she is not dead,” and we 
understood that he spoke of the vision which had come to 


226 


him, for I had told the tale of it to J an. But in his heart 
Jan put no faith in the vision, and believed that Suzanne, 
our beloved child, had been dead for many days, for he 
was certain that she would die rather than fall again into 
the hands of Van Yooren, as I was also, and indeed of 
this we were glad to be sure. 

To Ralph, however, that we might comfort him in his 
sorrow, which was even more terrible than our own, we 
made pretence that we believed Suzanne to be hiding far 
away, but unable to communicate with us, as in fact she 
was. 

Oh! our lives were sad during those bitter months. Yes, 
the light had gone out of our lives, and often we wished, 
the three of us, that already we were resting in the grave. 
As he recovered from his wounds and the strength of his 
body came back to him, a kind of gentle madness took hold 
of Ralph which it wrung our hearts to see. For hours, 
sometimes for days indeed, he would sit about the place 
brooding and saying no word. At other times he would 
mount his horse and ride away none knew whither, per- 
haps not to return that night or the next, or the next, till 
we were terrified by the thought that he too might never 
come back again. It was useless to be angry with him, for 
he would only answer with a little smile. 

“ You forget; I must be seeking my wife, who is waiting 
for me upon the Mountain of the Hand,” and then we 
learned that he had ridden to a far off hill to examine it, 
or to see some travellers or natives and ask of them if they 
knew or had h6ard of such a mountain, with ridges upon its 
eastern slopes* fashioned like the thumb and fingers of a 
man’s hand. Indeed, in all that countryside, among both 
Boers and natives, Ralph won the by-name of the “ Man of 
the Mountain ” because he rarely spoke of aught else. But 


227 


still folk, black and white, knew the reason of his madness 
and bore with him, pitying his grief. 

It was, I remember, in the season after Suzanne had 
vanished that the Kaffirs became so angry and dangerous. 
For my part I believe that those in our neighbourhood 
were stirred up by the emissaries of Swart Piet, for though 
he had gone none knew where, his tools and agents re- 
mained behind him. However this may have been, all 
over the country the black men began to raid the stock, 
and in our case they ended by attacking the stead also, a 
great number of them armed with guns. Fortunately we 
had a little warning, and they were very sad Kaffirs that 
went away next day; moreover, forty of them never went 
away at alL Just at dawn, when they had been besieging 
the house for some hours, shouting, banging off their guns, 
and trying to fire the roof by means of assegais with tufts 
of blazing grass tied on to them, Jan, Ralph, and about 
twenty of our people crept down under cover of the 
orchard wall and sallied out upon them. 

“Almighty! how those men fought, especially Jan and 
Ralph. It was a pleasure to see them, for I watched the 
whole thing from the stoep, though I admit that I was 
anxious, since it was evident that neither of them seemed 
to care whether he lived or died. However, as it turned 
out, it was not they who died, but the Kaffirs, who went off 
with some few cattle and afterwards left us in peace. 

And now comes the strange part of the affair, though I 
scarcely like to tell it, lest after all these years it should 
not be believed. Someone connected with the London 
Missionary Society reported us to the Government at the 
Cape for shooting poor, innocent black men, -and it was 
threatened that Jan and Ralph would be put upon their 
trial for murder by the British Government. Indeed, I 


228 


"believe that this would have been done had not we and 
others of onr neighbours let it be clearly known that before 
they were dragged to the common gaol there would he 
killing not of black but of white men. 

Our case was only one of many, since in those times 
there was no security for us Boers — we were robbed, we 
were slandered, we were deserted. Our goods were taken 
and we were not compensated; the Kaffirs stole our herds, 
and if we resisted them we were tried as murderers; our 
slaves were freed, and we were cheated of their value, and 
the word of a black man was accepted before our solemn 
oath upon the Bible. 

Ko wonder that we grew tired of it and trekked, seeking 
to shake the dust of British rule from off our feet, and to 
find a new home for ourselves out of the reach of the hand 
of the accursed British Government. Oh! I know that 
there are two sides to the story, and I daresay that the 
British Government meant well, but at the least it was a 
fool, and it always will be a fool with its Secretaries of 
State, who know nothing sitting far away there in London, 
and its Governors, whose only business is to please the 
Secretaries of State, that when the country they are sent 
to rule grows sick of them, they may win another post with 
larger pay. 

Well, this tale is of people and not of politics, so I will 
say no more of the causes that brought about the great 
trek of the Boers from the old Colony and sent them forth 
into the wilderness, there to make war with the savage 
man and found new countries for themselves. I know 
those causes, for Jan and Ralph and I were of the number 
of the voortrekkers; still, had it not been for the loss of 
Suzanne, I do not think that we should have trekked, for we 
loved the home we had made upon the face of the wild veldt. 


229 


But now that she was gone it was no home for us; every 
home of the house, every tree in the garden, every ox and 
horse and sheep reminded us of her. Yes, even the dis- 
tant roar of the ocean and the sighing of the winds among 
the grasses seemed to speak of her. These were the 
flowers she loved, that was the stone she sat on, yonder was 
the path which day by day she trod. The very air was 
thick with memories of her, and the tones of her lost voice 
seemed to linger in the echoes of the hills at night. 

It was upon the anniversary of the marriage of Ralph 
and Suzanne, yes, on the very day year of her taking by 
Piet Van Vooren, that we made up our minds to go. We 
had dined and Ralph sat quite silent, his head bowed a 
little upon his breast, as was his custom, while Jan spoke 
loudly of the wrongs of the Boers at the hand of the British 
Government. I do not think that he was much troubled 
with those wrongs just then, but he talked because he 
wished to interest Ralph and turn his mind from sad 
thoughts. 

“ What think you of it, son ? ” said Jan at length, for 
it is hard work talking all by oneself, even when one has 
the British Government to abuse, which was the only sub- 
ject that made Jan a wordy man. 

“ I, father? ” answered Ralph with a start, which showed 
me that his mind was far away. “I do not quite know what 
I think. I should like to hear what the English Govern- 
ment say about the matter, for I think that they mean to 
be fair, only they do not understand the wants and troubles- 
of us Boers who live so far away. • Also, without doubt the 
missionaries mean well, but they believe that a black man 
has a bigger soul than a white man, whereas we who know 
the black man see that there is a difference.” 

“ Allemachter, son,” said Jan, looking at him out of 


230 


the corner of his eye, “ cannot you show some spirit? I 
hoped that being an Englishman you would have stood up 
for your own people, and then we might have quarrelled 
about it, which would have done us both good, but you 
only sit and talk like a magistrate in his chair, looking at 
both sides of the case at once, which is an evil habit for 
men who have to make their way in the world. Well, I 
tell you that if you had seen the cursed British Govern- 
ment hang your father and uncle at Slagter’s Nek, and not 
satisfied with that, hang them a second time, when the 
ropes broke, just because they tried to shoot a few Hot- 
tentot policemen, you would not think much of its fairness. 
And as for the missionaries of the London Society, well, 
I should like to hang them , as would be right and proper, 
seeing that they blacken the names of honest Boers.” 

Balph only smiled at this onslaught, for he was not to be 
stirred from his lethargy by talk about Slagter’s Nek and 
the missionaries. For a while there was silence, which 
presently was broken by Jan roaring at me in a loud voice 
as though I were deaf. 

“ Vrouw, let ons trek ,” and, to give weight to his words, 
he brought his great fist down with a bang upon the table, 
knocking off a plate and breaking it. 

I stooped to pick up the pieces, rating him for his care- 
lessness as I gathered them, for I wished to have time to 
think, although for a long while I had expected this. 
When I had found them all I placed them upon the table, 
saying: 

“ They cannot be mended, and — hearts or plates — what 
•cannot be mended had best be hidden away. Hearts and 
plates are brittle things, but the last can be bought in 
iron, as I wish the first could be also. Yes, husband, we 
will trek if you desire it.” 


231 


“What say you, son?” asked Jan. 

Ralph answered his question by another. “In which 
direction will the emigrants trek? ” 

“ North, I believe, to the Vaal River.” 

“Then, father, I say let us go,” he replied with more 
spirit than he had shown for a long while, “for I have 
searched and inquired to the south and the east and the 
west, and in them I can hear of no mountain that has 
ridges upon its eastern slopes shaped like the thumb and 
fingers of a man’s hand with a stream of water issuing from 
between the thumb and first finger.” 

Now once more we were silent, for we saw that his 
madness had again taken hold of Ralph’s mind, and that 
was a sad silence. 


CHAPTER XXY 


THE GREAT TREK 

Ok the morrow we began to make ready, and a month 
later we trekked from onr much loved home. J an tried to 
sell the farm, which was a very good one of over six thou- 
sand morgen, or twelve thousand English acres, well 
watered, and having on it a dwelling house built of stone, 
with large kraals and out-buildings, an orchard of fruit- 
trees, and twenty morgen of crop lands that could be irri- 
gated in the dry season, well fenced in with walls built of 
loose stones. But no one would make a bid for it, for there 
were few English about, and most of the farmers were 
trekking, so at last he parted with it to a cowardly fellow, 
a Boer by birth, but, as I believe, a spy of the British 
Government, who gave him fifty pounds and an old waggon 
in exchange for the place and everything upon it except 
the stock which we took with us. 

Some years ago I heard that this man’s grandson sold 
that same farm for twenty thousand pounds in cash, and 
that now it is a place where they breed horses, angora goats, 
and ostriches in great numbers. It makes me mad to 
think that the descendant of that low spy should have 
profited so largely out of the land which was ours, but so 
it often chances that those whose hearts are small and 
mean reap the reward of the courage and misfortunes of 

232 


233 


braver men. Nor should we grumble indeed, seeing that 
the Lord has blessed us greatly in land and goods. 

Ah! It was a sad home leaving. The day before we 
trekked Ralph rode to visit his mother’s grave for the 
last time, and then, following the track which he had 
taken as a child, he went to the kloof where Suzanne had 
found him, and sat down upon that stone on which as a 
child he had knelt in prayer, and where in after years he 
and his lost wife had told their love. Jan accompanied 
him upon this dismal journey, for to speak truth we did 
not like to leave him more alone than we could help, since 
his manner remained strange, and when he set out on his 
solitary rides we could not be certain that we should ever 
see him come back again. 

Next morning we trekked away, and my eyes were so full 
of tears as I sat beneath the tent of the first waggon that 
the familiar landscape and the home where I lived for 
twenty years and more were blotted from my sight. But 
I could still hear the long-nosed spy who had bought the 
farm, and who was waiting to enter into possession, talking 
to Jan. 

“ Good-bye, Heer Botmar,” he said, “ and good fortune 
to you upon your journey. For my part I cannot under- 
stand you emigrants. The English Government is an ac- 
cursed Government, no doubt; still I would not sell a 
farm and a house like this for fifty pounds and an old 
waggon in order to wander in the wilderness to escape 
from it, there to be eaten by lions or murdered by Kaffirs. 
Still, good-bye, and good luck to you, and I hope that you 
are as content with your bargain as I am with mine.” 

“ The Lord will be our guide, as He was to the Israelites 
of old,” answered Jan in a somewhat troubled voice. 

“ Yes, yes; they all say that, Heer Botmar, and I trust 


234 


that they are right, for you will need nothing less than a 
cloud by day and a pillar of fire in the darkness to protect 
you from all the dangers in your path. Also I hope that 
the hosts of Pharaoh, in the shape of English soldiers, will 
not fetch you hack before you cross the border, for then, 
when you have sold your birthright in Egypt, and are 
cut off from the Promised Land, your lot will be hard, 
Heer Botmar.” 

“ The Lord will guide and protect us,” repeated J an, 
and gave the word to trek. 

In my heart at the time I was inclined to agree with that 
cheat’s sneering words; and yet Jan was right, and not I, 
for of the truth the Lord did guide and protect us. Has 
anything more wonderful happened in the world than this 
journey of a few farmers, cumbered with women and chil- 
dren, and armed only with old-fashioned muzzle-loading 
guns, into a vast, unknown land, peopled by savages and 
wild beasts? Yet, look what they did. They conquered 
Moselikatse; they broke the strength of Dingaan and all 
his Zulu impis; they peopled the Free State, the Transvaal, 
and Natal. That was the work of those few farmers, and I 
say that of their own strength they could never have done 
it; the strength was given to them from above; the Sword 
of God was in their hand, and He guided that hand and 
blessed it. 

9 

Our first out span was at the spot where Van Yooren had 
tried to murder Ealph and carried off Suzanne upon her 
wedding-day. We did not stop there long, for the place 
was bad for Ealph, who sat upon the box of a waggon 
staring moodily at some blackened stones, which, as one of 
the drivers told me — the same man who accompanied them 
upon their wedding journey — had been brought by Ealph 


235 


from the kloof and used by Suzanne to set the kettle on 
when they took their meal together. Led by this same 
driver I walked to the edge of the cliff — for I had never 
visited the place before — and looked at the deep sea-pool, 
forty feet below me, into which Swart Piet had thrown 
Ralph after he had shot him. Also I went down to the 
edge of the pool and climbed up again by the path along 
which Zinti and Sihamba had staggered with his senseless 
body. Afterwards I returned to the waggons with a heart 
full ' of thankfulness and wonder that he should still be 
alive among us to-day, although alas, there was much for 
which I could not feel thankful, at least not then. 

Now it is of little use that I should set down the history 
of this trek of ours day by day, for if I did my story would 
have no end. It is enough to tell that in company with 
other emigrants we crossed the Orange River, heading for 
Thaba Nchu, which had been the chief town of Maroko 
before Moselikatse drove him out of the Marico country. 
Here several bands of emigrants were to meet, and here 
they did meet, but not until a year or more had passed 
since we left the colony and wandered out into the veldt. 

Ah! I tell you, my child, the veldt in those days was 
different indeed from what it is now. The land itself 
remains the same except where white men have built towns 
upon it, but all else is changed. Then it was black with 
game when the grass was green; yes, at times I have seen 
it so black for miles that we could scarcely see the grass. 
There were all sorts of them, springbucks in myriads, bles- 
bok and quagga and wildebeeste in thousands, sable ante- 
lope, sassaby and hartebeeste in herds, eland, giraffe and 
koodoo in troops; while the forests were full of elephant 
and the streams of sea-cow. They are all gone now, the 
beautiful wild creatures; the guns of the white men have 


286 


killed them out or driven them away, and I suppose that 
it is as well that they are gone, for while the game is in 
such plenty the men will not work. Still I for one am 
sorry to lose the sight of them, and had it not been for their 
numbers we Boers should never have lasted through that 
long trek, for often and often we lived upon buck’s flesh 
and little else for weeks together. 

At Thaba Nchu we camped waiting for other hands of 
emigrants, hut after four or five months some of our num- 
ber grew so impatient that they started off hy themselves. 
Among these were the companies under the Heer Trie- 
gaart and the Heer Rensenburg, who wished us to accom- 
pany him, but Jan would not, I do not know why. It 
was as well, for the knob-nosed Kaffirs killed him and 
everybody with him. Triegaart, who had separated from 
him, trekked to Delagoa Bay, and reached it, where nearly 
all his people died of fever. 

After that we moved northwards in detachments, instead 
of keeping together as we should have done, with the 
result that several of our parties were fallen upon and 
murdered by the warriors of Moselikatse. Our line of 
march was between where Bloemfontein and Winburg now 
stand in the Orange Free State, and it was south of the 
Vaal, not far from the Rhenoster River that Moselikatse 
attacked us. 

I cannot tell the tale of all this war, I can only tell of 
what I saw myself. We were of the party under the leader- 
ship of Carl Celliers, afterwards an elder of the church at 
Kronnstadt. Celliers went on a commission to Zoutpans- 
berg to spy out the land, and it was while he was away 
that so many families were cut off by Moselikatse, the 
remainder of them, with such of their women and children 
as were left alive, retreating to our laager. Then Celliers 


returned from his commission, and we retired to a place 
called Vechtkop, near the Rhenoster River; altogether we 
numbered not more than fifty or sixty souls, including 
women and children. 

Here we heard that Moselikatse was advancing to make 
an end of us, so we made our laager as strong as we could, 
lashing the disselboom of each waggon beneath the frame- 
work of that before it and filling the spaces beneath and 
between with the crowns and boughs of sharp- thorned 
mimosa trees, which we tied to the trek tows and break 
chains so that they could not be torn away. Also in the 
middle of the laager we made an inner defence of seven 
waggons, in which were placed the women and children, 
with the spare food and gunpowder, but the cattle we 
were obliged to leave outside. Early on the morning when 
we had finished the laager we heard that the impi of 
Moselikatse was close to us, and the men to the number of 
over thirty rode out to look for it, leaving but a few to 
defend the camp. 

About an hour’s ride away they found the Kaffirs, thou- 
sands of them, and a Hottentot who could speak their 
tongue was instructed to call to them and ask them why 
they attacked us. By way of answer they shouted out the 
name of their chief and began to charge, whereupon our 
men dismounted from their horses and opened fire upon 
them, mounting again before they could come near. So 
the fight went on until the laager was reached, and many 
Kaffirs were killed without any loss to the Boers, for 
luckily in those days the natives had no firearms. 

I remember that we women were moulding bullets when 
the men rode in, and very thankful we were to find that 
not one of them was even wounded. While they ate some- 
thing we washed out their guns, and at intervals near the 


238 


places where each man must stand behind the waggons we 
piled little heaps of powder and bullets upon buckskins 
and pieces of canvas laid on the ground; also we did all 
we could to strengthen our defences still further by bind- 
ing ox-hides over the waggon wheels and thrusting in more 
thorns between them. 

Then, as the enemy was still preparing to attack us, the 
Heer Celliers called us together, and there in the laager, 
while all knelt around him, even to the smallest child, he 
put up a prayer to God asking that we might he forgiven 
our sins, and that He would look upon us and protect 
us in our great need. 

It was a strange sight. There we all knelt in the quiet 
sunshine while he prayed in an earnest voice, and we fol- 
lowed his words with our hearts, every one of us, men and 
women, holding guns or axes in our hands. Never had 
human beings more need for prayer, for through the cracks 
between the waggons we could see Moselikatse’s Zulus, six 
or seven thousand of them, forming themselves into three 
bodies to rush upon us and murder us, and that was a 
dreadful sight for fifty or sixty people, of whom some were 
little children. 

When we had finished praying husbands and wives and 
parents and children kissed each other, and then the little 
ones and some of the women who were sick or aged were 
put behind the seven waggons in the centre of the laager, 
round which were tied the horses, while the rest of us went 
to our stations, men and women together. I stood behind 
Jan and Ralph, who fought side by side, and, assisted by 
a girl of fourteen years of age, loaded their spare guns. 
Now there was a great silence in the camp, and suddenly 
in the silence, Jan, who was looking through his loophole, 
whispered: 


239 


<( Allemachter! here they come.” 

And come they did, with a rush and a roar from three 
sides at once, while men drew in their breath and set their 
faces for the struggle. Still no one fired, for the order 
was that we were to save our powder until Celliers let off 
his gun. Already the savages were within thirty paces of 
us, a countless mass of men packed like sheep in a kraal, 
their fierce eyes shewing white as ivory in the sunlight, 
their cruel spears quivering in their hands, when the signal 
was given and every gun, some loaded with slugs and some 
with bullets, was discharged point-blank into the thick 
of them. 

Over they rolled by dozens, hut that did not stop the 
rest, who, in spite of our pitiless fire, rushed up to the 
waggons and gripped them with their hands, striving to 
drag them apart, till the whole line of them rocked and 
surged and creaked like boats upon the sea, while the air 
grew thick with smoke rising straight up towards the sky, 
and through the smoke assegais flashed as thick as rain. 

But although some of the heavy laden waggons were 
dragged a foot or more outward they held together, and 
the storm of spears flying over our heads did little harm. 
Heavens! what a fight was that, the fight of fifty against six 
thousand. 

Hot more than seven feet of space divided us from that 
shrieking sea of foes into which we poured bullets at 
hazard, for there was no need to aim, as fast as the guns 
could be loaded. Suddenly I heard the girl call out: 

“ Kek, tante, da is een swartzel!” (look, aunt, there is 
a black man). 

I looked, and just at my side I saw a great savage who 
had forced his way through the thorns and crawled be- 
neath the waggon into the laager. The gun in my hand 


240 


was empty, but by me lay an axe which I snatched up, 
and as he rose to his knees I struck him with all my 
strength upon the neck and killed him at a blow. Yes, 
my child, that was the kind of work to which we wives 
of the voortrekkers had to put a needle. 

Jan had just fired his gun, and seeing the man he sprang 
to help me, whereon three more Kaffirs following on the 
dead soldier’s path crawled out from under the waggon. 
Two of them gained their feet and ran at him lifting their 
assegais. I thought that all was lost, for one hole in our 
defence was like a pin prick to a bladder, but with a shout 
Jan dropped the empty gun and rushed to meet them. 
He caught them by the throat, the two of them, one in 
each of his great hands, and before they could spear him 
dashed their heads together with such desperate strength 
that they fell down and never stirred again. This was 
always thought something of a feat, for as everybody knows 
the skulls of Kaffirs are thick. 

By this time the girl had handed Ralph his second gun 
loaded, and with it he shot the third Kaffir; then he also 
did a brave thing, for seeing that more Zulus were begin- 
ning to creep through the hole, he snatched the assegai 
from a dead man’s hand, and stopped the gap with his own 
body, lying flat upon his stomach and thrusting at their 
heads with the spear. Soon we dragged him out with 
only one slight wound, pushing the bodies of the Kaffirs 
into his place, and over them spare branches of thorn, so 
that the breach was made good. 

This was the turning point of the fight, for though after 
it one other Kaffir managed to get into the laager, where 
he was cut down, and two Boers, Nicholas Potgieter and 
Pieter Botha, were killed by assegais thrown from without, 
from that moment the attack began to slacken. In thirty 


241 


minutes from the time that Celliers had fired the first shot, 
Moselikatse’s general, whose name was Kalipi, had given 
the order to retire, and his hosts drew off sullenly, for we 
had beaten them. 

Thirty minutes! Only thirty minutes — the shadows had 
shifted but a few inches on the grass, and yet now that it 
was done with it seemed like half a lifetime. Panting and 
begrimed with smoke and powder, we stood looking at 
each other and around us. The tents of the waggons were 
ripped to pieces, in our own I counted more than sixty 
spear cuts, and the trampled turf inside the laager was like 
the hack of an angry porcupine, for from it we gathered 
nearly fourteen hundred heavy assegais. For the rest, the 
two men lay dead where they had fallen, their faces turned 
towards the sky, each of them pierced through by a spear, 
and out of our little number twelve others were wounded, 
though none of them died of their wounds. Not a woman 
or a child was touched. 

Outside the laager there was a sight to see, for there 
on the red grass, some lying singly and some in heaps, were 
over four hundred Zulu soldiers, most of them dead, and 
how many wounded they carried away with them I cannot 
tell. 

Now we saw that the Kaffirs were collecting our cattle, 
and about twenty men under Potgieter saddled up and 
rode out to try and recapture them, since without oxen to 
draw' the waggons we were helpless. Till sunset they fol- 
lowed them, killing many, hut being so few they could not 
recapture the cattle, and in the end were obliged to return 
empty handed. Ralph went with his party, and, because 
of an act of mercy which he did then it came about in the 
end that Suzanne was found and many lives were saved. 


242 


So plenteously do our good deeds bear fruit, even in this 
world. 

Yes, you may have thought that this tale of the battle 
of Vetchkop was only put in here because it is one of the 
great experiences of an old woman’s life. But it is not 
so; it has all to do with the story of Balph and of my 
daughter Suzanne. 



CHAPTER XXYI 


HOW GAASHA BROUGHT GOOD LUCK 

Wheu Ralph, returned from pursuing the Zulus, as he 
drew near to the laager he lingered a little behind the 
others, for he was very weary of all this work of killing, 
also the flesh-wound that he had got from the Kaffir’s 
spear having stiffened pained him when his horse cantered. 
There was no more danger now, for the savages were 
gone, leaving their path marked by the corpses of those 
who had been shot down by the Boers, or of men who had 
limped away wounded either to die upon the road or to 
be killed by their comrades because their case was hopeless. 
Following this black trail of death backwards Ralph rode 
on, and when he was within a hundred yards of the wag- 
gons halted his horse to study the scene. He thought 
that he would never see such another, although, in fact, 
that at the Blood River when we conquered the Zulu king, 
Dingaan, was even more strange and terrible. 

The last crimson rays of the setting sun were flooding 
the plain with light. Blood-red they shone upon the spear- 
torn canvas of the waggons and upon the stained and 
trampled veldt. Even the bodies of the Ka fffrs looked red 
as they lay in every shape and attitiude; some as though they 
slept; some with outstretched arms and spears gripped 
tight; some with open mouths as they had died shouting 

243 


244 


their war-cry. Ralph looked at them and was thankful 
that it was not we white people who lay thus, as it might 
well have been. Then, just as he was turning towards the 
laager, he thought that he saw something move in a tussock 
of thick grass, and rode towards it. Behind the tussock 
lay the body of a young Kaffir, not an uncommon sight 
just there, hut Ralph was so sure that he had seen it move 
that, stirred by an idle curiosity, he dismounted from his 
horse to examine it. This he did carefully, hut the only 
hurt that he could see was a flesh wound caused by a slug 
upon the foot, not serious in any way, but such as might 
very well prevent a man from running. 

" This fellow is shamming dead/’ he thought to himself, 
and lifted his gun, for in those times we could not afford 
to nurse sick Kaffirs. 

Then of a sudden the young man who had seemed to be a 
corpse rose to his knees, and, clasping his hands, began to 
beg for mercy. Instead of shooting him at once, as most 
Boers would have done, Ralph, who was tender-hearted, 
hesitated and listened while the Kaffir, a pleasant-faced 
lad and young, besought him for his life. 

"Why should I spare you,” asked Ralph, who under- 
stood his talk well, “ seeing that, like all the rest of these, 
you set upon my people to murder them? ” 

" Kay, chief,” answered the young man, " it is not so. 
I am no Zulu. I belong to another tribe, and was but a 
slave and a carrier in the army of Kalipi, for I was taken 
prisoner and forced to carry mats and food and water,” 
and he pointed to a bundle and some gourds that lay beside 
him. 

“ It may be so,” answered Ralph, " but the dog shares 
his master’s fate.” 

"Chief,” pleaded the man, "spare me. Although it 


245 


prevented me from running away with the others, my 
wound is very slight and will he healed in a day or two, 
and then I will serve you as your slave and be faithful to you 
all my life. Spare me and I shll bring you good luck.” 

“ I need that enough,” said Ralph, “ and I am sure that 
you are no Zulu, for a Zulu would not stoop to beg for his 
life thus,” and he stood thinking. 

While he thought, Jan, who had seen him from the 
laager, came up behind. 

“ What are you doing, son,” he asked in an angry voice, 
u talking to this black devil here alone among the dead? 
Stand aside and let me settle him if you have not the 
heart,” and he lifted his gun. 

“ No, father,” said Ralph, pushing it aside, “ this man is 
not a Zulu; he is but a slave-carrier and he has prayed me 
to spare his life, swearing that he will serve me faithfully. 
Also he says that he brings good luck.” 

“ Certainly he brought good luck to these,” answered 
Jan, pointing to the scattered dead with his hand, and 
laughing grimly. “ Allemachter! son, you must he mad 
to play the fool thus, for doubtless the sneaking villain 
will murder you the first time your hack is turned. Come, 
stand aside and I will finish it.” 

Now the young man, whose name was Gaasha, seeing 
that he was about to be shot, threw himself upon the 
ground, and clasping Ralph round the knees, implored for 
mercy. 

“ Save me, Bass,” he prayed, “ save me, and you will 
always he glad of it, for I tell you I bring you good luck, 
I tell you I bring you good luck.” 

“ Father,” said Ralph, setting his mouth, “ if you kill 
this Kaffir it will he a cause of quarrel between us, and we 
never quarrelled yet.” 


246 


“ Quarrel or no quarrel, he shall die,” said Jan in a 
rage, for he thought it the strangest folly that Ealph 
should wish to spare a black man. 

At that moment, however, something seemed to strike 
his mind, for his face grew puzzled, and he looked about 
him almost anxiously. 

“ Where have I seen it before ? ” he said, as though he 
were speaking to himself. “ The veldt all red with blood 
and sunset, the laager behind and the Kaffir with the 
wounded foot holding Ealph by the knees. Allemachter! 
I know. It was that day in the sit-hammer * at the stead 
yonder, when the little doctoress, Sihamba, made me look 
into her eyes; yes, yes, I have seen it all in the eyes of 
Sihamba. Well, let the lad live, for without a doubt Si- 
hamba did not show me this picture that should be for 
nothing. Moreover, although I am stupid, as your mother 
says, I have learned that there are many things in the 
world which we cannot understand but which play a part 
in our lives nevertheless.” 

So the lad Gaasha was brought to the laager, and upon 
the prayer of Jan and Ealph, the commandant gave him 
his life, ordering, however, that he should sleep outside 
the waggons. 

“ Well,” I said when I heard the tale, “one thing is 
that you will never see him again, for he will be off during 
the night back to his friends the Zulus.” But I was wrong, 
for next morning there was Gaasha, and there he remained 
even after his foot was quite well, making the best Kaffir 
servant that ever I had to do with. 

After that day we saw no more of the Zulus at Yetchkop, 
although later with the help of other Boers we attacked 
them twice, killing more than four thousand of them, and 
* Sitting room. 


247 


capturing six thousand head of cattle, so that they fled 
north for good and all, and founded the nation of the 
Matabele far away. 

But oh! our fate was hard there at Vetchkop; never have 
I known worse days. The Zulus had taken away all our 
cattle, so that we could not even shift the waggons from 
the scene of the fight, but must camp there amidst the 
vultures and the mouldering skeletons, for the dead were 
so many that it was impossible to bury all them. We sent 
messengers to other parties of Boers for help, and while 
they were gone we starved, for there was no food to eat,, 
and game was very scarce. Yes, it was a piteous sight to 
see the children cry for food and gnaw old bits of leather 
or strips of hide cut from Kaffir shields to stay the craving 
of their stomachs. Some of them died of that hunger, 
and I grew so thin that when I chanced to see myself in a 
pool of water where I went to wash I started back 
frightened. 

At length, when we were all nearly dead, some oxen 
came and with them we dragged a few of the waggons to 
Moroko, where an English clergyman and his wife, taking 
pity on us, gave us corn, for which reason I have always 
held that among the British the clergymen must be a great 
deal better than the rest of that proud and worthless race, 
for it is true that we judge of people as they deal by us. 
Yes, and I will go so far as to say that I do not believe 
that the Reverend Mr. Owen, the English missionary at the 
kraal of the Zulu King Dingaan, did in truth advise him 
to massacre Retief and his seventy Boers, as was generally 
reported among my countrymen. 

Well, after Moselikatse’s Zulus were finally defeated the 
question arose whether we should proceed to Zoutpansberg 
and settle there, or follow our brethren who in large num- 


248 


hers had already crossed the Quathlamba Mountains into 
Natal under the leadership of Retief. In the end we de- 
cided for Natal because it was nearer the sea, for in those 
days we never dreamed that the treacherous British Gov- 
ernment would steal that land also; so trekking slowly, we 
headed for Van Reenen’s Pass, our party then numbering 
thirty waggons and about sixty white people. 

It was when we were about four days trek, or sixty miles, 
from the pass that one evening, as we sat eating our food, 
Jan, Ralph, and I — I remember it was the fried steaks of 
an eland that Ralph had shot — the lad Gaasha, who had 
now served us for some six months, came up to the fire, and 
having saluted Ralph, squatted down before him Kaffir 
fashion, saying that he had a favour to ask. 

“ Speak on,” said Ralph. “ What is it? ” 

“ Baas,” replied Gaasha, “ it is this; I want a week or ten 
days leave of absence to visit my people.” 

“ You mean that you want to desert,” I put in. 

“ No lady,” answered Gaasha; “ you know that I love the 
Baas who saved my life far too well ever to wish to leave 
him. I desire only to see my parents and to tell them that 
I am happy, for doubtless they think me dead. The Baas 
proposes to cross into Natal by Van Reenen’s Pass, does 
he not? Well, not so very far from my home, although 
none would guess it unless he knew the way, is another pass 
called Oliver’s Hook, and by that pass, after I have spoken 
with my father and my mother if they still live, I would 
cross the Quathlamba, finding the Baas again on the 
further side of the mountains, as I can easily do. 

“ I think that I will let you go as I can trust you, 
Gaasha,” said Ralph, “ but tell me the name of your home, 
that I may know where to send to seek you if you should 
not come back as you promise.” 


249 


“ Have I not said that I will come back, Baas, unless 
the lions or the Zulus should eat me on the way, hut the 
name of the house of my tribe is Umpondwana. It is only 
a little tribe, for the Zulus killed many of us in the time of 
Chaka, but their house is a very fine house.” 

“ What does Umpondwana mean? ” asked Ralph idly as 
he lit his pipe. 

“ It means the Mountain of the Mam’s Hand, Baas.” 

Ralph let h’is pipe fall on the ground, and I saw his face 
turn white beneath the sunburn, while of a sudden his 
grey eyes looked as though they were about to leap from 
their sockets. 

“ Why is it called the Mountain of the Man’s Hand? ” 
he asked in a hollow voice. “ Speak quick now, and do 
not lie to me.” 

Gaasha looked up at him astonished. “ How should I 
know. Baas, when the place was named so before I was 
born, and none have told me. But I think that it may 
be because upon one of the slopes of the mountain, which 
has great cliffs of red rock, are five ridges, which, seen from 
the plain below, look like the four fingers and the thumb 
of a man. Also the place has another name, which means 
f where the water springs out of the rock/ because from 
between two of the ridges, those that are like the thumb 
and first finger, flows a stream which comes from the heart 
of the mountain.” 

“ On which side of the mountain are the ridges and the 
stream?” asked Ralph in the same unnatural voice. 

“ Baas, when the sun rises it strikes on them.” 

Now Ralph swung to and fro like a drunken man, and 
had I not put my arm about him I believe that he would 
have fallen. 

“ It is the mountain of my vision,” he gasped. 


250 


“ Be not foolish/’ I answered, for I feared lest when he 
found that all this strange resemblance was a chance, the 
bitterness of his disappointment might overwhelm him. 
“ Be not foolish, son; are there not many hills in this great 
land with ridges on their flanks, and streams of water 
running down them.” 

Then, as Ralph seemed unable to answer me, I asked of 
Gaasha: 

“ Who is the chief of this tribe of yours ? ” 

“ He is named Koraanu,” he answered, “ if he still lives, 
but a man I met some months ago told me that he has been 
dead these two years, and that she who used to rule us 
when I was a little child had come back from the lands 
whither she had wandered, and is now Inkoosikaas of the 
Umpondwana.” 

“ What is the name of this chief tainess? ” I asked in the 
midst of a great silence. 

Gaasha answered at once; that is, after he had taken a 
pinch of snuff, but to us it seemed a year before the words 
crossed his lips. 

“ Her name, lady,” and he sneezed, “ is ” — and he 
sneezed again, rocking himself to and fro. Then slowly 
wiping away the tears which the snuff had brought to his 
eyes with the back of his hand he said, “ ow! this is the 
best of snuff, and I thank the Baas for giving it to me.” 

“ Answer,” roared J an, speaking for the first time, and 
in such a fierce voice that Gaasha sprang to his feet and 
began to run away. 

“ Come back, Gaasha, come back,” I called, and he came 
doubtfully, for Gaasha was not very brave, and ever since 
he had wished to shoot him he trembled even at the sight 
of Jan. “ Be silent, you fool,” I whispered to the latter 
as the lad drew near, then said aloud “ How, Gaasha.” 


251 


“ Lady,” he answered, “ it is indeed as I have told yon; 
the Baas gave me the snuff a long time ago; he took it out 
of the ear-boxes of the dead men at Yetchkop. He gave it 
me. I did not steal it. He will say so himself.” 

“ Never mind the snuff, Gaasha,” I said in a voice half- 
choked with doubt and anxiety, for the sight of Ralph’s 
piteous face and the strangeness of it all were fast over- 
whelming me, “ hut tell us what is the name of this chief- 
tainess whom you have heard is now the ruler of your 
tribe? ” 

“ Her name, lady,” he answered, much relieved, “ why it 
is well known, for though she is small, it is said that she is 
the best of doctoresses and rain-makers.” 

Now Jan could no longer be restrained, for stretching out 
his great hand he gripped Gaasha by the throat, saying: 

“ Accursed swartzel, if you do not tell us the name at 
once I will kill you.” 

“ Madman,” I exclaimed, “ how can the lad speak while 
you are choking him ? ” 

Then Jan shifted his grip and Gaasha began to cry for pity. 

“ The name, the name,” said J an. 

“ Why should I hide it? Have I not told it? Baas, it 
is Sihamba Ngenyanga .” 

As the words passed his lips Jan let go of him so sud- 
denly that Gaasha fell to the ground and sat there staring at 
us, for without doubt he thought that we had all gone mad. 

Jan looked up to the skies and said, “ Almighty, I thank 
Thee, Who canst make dreams to fly to the heart of a man 
.as a night-bird to its nest through the darkness, and Who, be- 
cause of what I saw in the eyes of Sihamba, didst turn aside 
my gun when it was pointed at the breast of this Kaffir.” 

Then he looked at Ralph, and was quiet, for Ralph had 
swooned away. 


CHAPTER XXYII 


SWART PIET SETS A SNARE 

It was a strange life that Suzanne led among the Um- 
pondwana during the two years or more that, together with 
Sihamba, she ruled over them as chief tainess. Upon the 
top of the mountain was a space of grass land measuring 
about five hundred morgen, or a thousand acres in extent, 
where were placed the chiePs huts and those of the head 
men and soldiers, surrounding a large cattle kraal, which, 
however, was only used in times of danger. The rest of 
the people dwelt upon the slopes of the mountain, and 
even on the rich plains at the foot of it, but if need were 
they could all retreat to the table-land upon its crest. 
Here they might have defied attack for ever, for beneath 
the cattle kraal grain was stored in pits, only there was 
but one spring, which in dry seasons was apt to fail. There- 
fore it was that the Umpondwana had built stone schanzes 
or fortifications about the mouth of the river which gushed 
from the mountain between the thumb and finger like 
ridges on the eastern slope, although it lay below their 
impregnable walls of rock, seeing that to this river they 
must look for their main supply of water. 

The table-top of the hill, which could only he ap- 
proached by one path that wound upwards through a 
ravine cut by water, being swept by every wind of heaven, 

252 


253 


and so high in the air, was very cold and naked. Indeed, 
in the winter season, rain fell there twice or thrice a week, 
and there were many days when it was wrapt in a dense 
white mist. Still, during the two years and more that she 
dwelt with the Umpondwana, Suzanne scarcely left this 
plain, not because she did not desire to do so, hut because 
she did not dare, for word was brought that the foot, and 
even the slopes, of the mountain were patrolled by men in 
the employ of Swart Piet. Moreover, soon it became clear 
that he had knowledge of all her movements, doubtless 
from spies in his pay who dwelt among the Umpondwana 
themselves. During the first few months of her sojourn 
on the mountain, it is true that now and again Suzanne 
rode out on to the veldt mounted on the schimmel, but 
this pastime she was forced to abandon because one day 
Swart Piet and his men saw her and gave chase, so that 
she was only saved from him by the fleetness of the great 
horse. 

After this, both she and the schimmel stayed upon the 
table-land, where daily they took exercise together, gallop- 
ing round a prepared path which was laid about the fence 
of the cattle kraal, and thus kept themselves in good 
health. 

Swart Piet had Kaffir blood in his veins, as I have said, 
and from boyhood it had been his custom to live two lives, 
one as a white man with white men, and one as a Kaffir 
with Kaffirs. About three miles distant from the Um- 
pondwana Mountain was a strong koppe with fertile valleys 
to the back of it, and here, being rich and having a great 
name as a white man, he found it no trouble to establish 
himself as a native chief, for refugees of all sorts gathered 
themselves about him, so that within a year he ruled over 
a little tribe of about a hundred men together with women. 


254 


With these men Van Yooren began to harass the Um- 
pondwana, cutting off their cattle if they strayed, and from 
time to time killing or enslaving small parties of them 
whom he caught wandering on the plains out of reach 
of help from the mountain. Whenever he captured such 
a party he would spare one of them, sending him hack 
with a message to the TJmpondwana. They were all to one 
effect, namely, that if the tribe would deliver over to him 
the lady Swallow who dwelt among them he would cease 
from troubling it, hut if this were not done, then he would 
wage war on it day and night until in this way or in that 
he compassed its destruction. 

To these messages Sihamha would reply as occasion 
offered, that if he wanted anything from the Umpondwana 
he had better come and take it. 

So things went on for a long while. Swart Piet’s men did 
them no great harm indeed, but they harassed them continu- 
ally, until the people of the Umpondwana began to mur- 
mur, for they could scarcely stir beyond the slopes of the 
mountain without being set upon. Happily for them these 
slopes were wide, for otherwise they could not have found 
pasturage for their cattle or land upon which to grow their 
corn. So close a watch was kept upon them, indeed, that 
they could neither travel to visit other tribes, nor could 
these come to them, and thus it came about that Suzanne 
was as utterly cut off from the rest of the world as though 
she had been dead. She had hut one hope to keep her 
heart alive, and it was that Ralph and Jan would learn of 
her fate through native rumours and he able to find her 
out. Still, as she knew that this could not he counted 
on, she tried to let us have tidings of her, for when she had 
been only a week on the mountain Umpondwana she de- 
spatched Zinti and two men to hear him company, with 


255 


orders to travel back over all the hundreds of miles of 
veldt to the far-off stead in the Transkei. 

As she had neither pen nor ink, nor anything with 
which she could write, Suzanne was obliged to trust a long 
message to Zinti’s memory, making him repeat it to her 
until she was sure that he had it by heart. In this mes- 
sage she told all that had befallen her, and prayed us to 
take Zinti for a guide and to come to her rescue, since 
she did not dare to set foot outside the walls of rock, for 
fear that she should be captured by Van Yooren, who 
watched for her continually. 

Zinti, being brave and faithful, started upon his errand, 
though it was one from which many, would have shrunk. 
But as ill-luck would have it, one night when they were 
camped near the kraal of a small Basuto tribe, his com- 
panions becoming hungry, stole a goat and killed it. Zinti 
ate of the goat, for they told him that they had bought it 
for some beads, and while they were still eating the Basutos 
came upon them and caught them red-handed. Next day 
they were tried by the councillors of the tribe and con- 
demned to die as thieves, but the chief, who wanted serv- 
ants, spared their lives and set them to labour in his 
gardens, where they were watched day and night. 

Zinti was a prisoner among these Basutos for nearly a 
year, but at length he made his escape, leaving his two 
companions behind, for they were afraid lest if they ran 
away with him they should be recaptured and killed. As 
soon as he was free Zinti continued his journey, for he was 
a man not easily turned from his purpose, nor because it 
was now over a year old did he cease from his attempt 
to deliver the message that had been set in his mouth. 

Well, after many dangers, footsore and worn-out with 
travelling, at length he reached the stead, to find that we 


256 


had all gone, none knew whither, and that the long-nosed 
cheat to whom we had sold the farm ruled in onr place. 
Zinti sought out some Kaffirs who lived upon the land, 
and abode with them awhile till he was rested and strong 
again. Then once more he turned his face northward 
towards the mountain Umpondwana, for though he greatly 
feared the journey, he knew that the heart of Suzanne 
would be sick for news. War raged in the country that 
he must pass, and food was scarce; still at length he won 
through, although at the last he was nearly captured by 
Black Piet’s thieves, and one year and nine months after 
he had left it, a worn and weary figure, he limped up the 
red rock path of Umpondwana. 

Suzanne had been watching for him. It seems strange 
to say it, but after six months had gone by, which time 
at the best must be given to his journey, she watched for 
him every day. On the top of the highest and most 
precipitous cliff of the mountain fortress of Umpondwana 
was a little knoll of rock curiously hollowed out to the 
shape of a chair, difficult to gain and dizzy to sit in, for 
beneath it was a sheer fall of five hundred feet, which 
chair-rock commanded the plain southward, and the pass 
where Van Vooren had spoken to Suzanne from his hiding- 
place among the stones. By this pass and across this plain 
help must reach her if it came at all, or so she thought; 
therefore in this eagle’s eyrie of a seat Suzanne sat day by 
day watching ever for those who did not come. A strange 
sight she must have been, for now long ago such garments 
as she had were worn to rags, so that she was forced to 
clothe herself in beautiful skins fashioned to her fancy, 
and to go sandal-footed, her lovely rippling hair hanging 
about her. 

At length one day from her lonely point of outlook she 


257 


saw a solitary man limping across the plain, a mere black 
speck dragging itself forward like a Wounded fly upon a 
wall. Descending from her seat she sought out Sihamba. 

“ Swallow / 5 said the little woman, “ there is tidings in 
your eyes. What is it ? 55 

“ Zinti returns / 5 she answered, “ I have seen him from 
far away . 55 

Now Sihamba smiled, for she thought Zinti lost; also she 
did not believe it possible that Suzanne could have recog- 
nised him from such a distance. Still before, two hours 
were over Zinti came, gaunt and footsore, but healthy and 
unharmed, and sitting down before Suzanne in her private 
enclosure, began at the very beginning of his long story, 
after the native fashion, telling of those things which had 
befallen him upon the day when he left the mountain 
nearly two years before. 

“ Your news? Your news? 55 said Suzanne. 

“ Lady, I am telling it / 5 he answered. 

“ Fool ! 55 exclaimed Sihamba. “ Say now, did you find 
the Baas Kenzie and the Baas Botmar ? 55 

“ No, indeed / 5 he replied, “ for they were gone . 55 

“ Gone where? Were they alive and well? 55 

“ Yes, yes, they were alive and well, but all the Boers 
in those parts have trekked, and they trekked also, be- 
lieving the lady Swallow to be dead . 55 

“ This is a bitter cup to drink / 5 murmured Suzanne, 
“ yet there is some sweetness in it, for at least my husband 
lives . 55 

Then Zinti set out all his story, and Suzanne listened 
to it in silence, praising him much and thanking him when 
he had done. But after that her heart failed her, and she 
seemed to give up hope. Ralph had vanished, and we, 
her parents, had vanished, and she was left alone a prisoner 


258 


among a little Kaffir tribe, at the foot of whose stronghold 
her bitter enemy waited to destroy her. Never was white 
woman in a more dreadful or more solitary state, and had 
it not been for Sihamba’s tender friendship she felt that 
she must have died. 

Now also Swart Piet grew bolder, appearing even on the 
slopes of the mountain where his men harried and stole. 
He did more than this even, for one morning just before 
dawn he attacked the pass leading to the stronghold so 
secretly and with such skill that his force was halfway up 
it before the sentries discovered them. Then they were 
seen, and the war-horns blew, and there followed a great 
fight. Indeed, had it not been for a lucky chance, it is 
doubtful how that fight would have ended, for his on- 
slaught was fierce, and the Umpondwana, who at the best 
were not the bravest of warriors, were taken by surprise. 

It will be remembered that Zinti had brought Ralph’s 
gun with him when first they fled north, and this gun he 
still had, together with a little powder and ball, for, fearing 
lest it should be stolen from him, he had not taken it on 
his great journey to the Transkei and back. Now, hearing 
the tumult, he ran out with it, and fired point blank at the 
stormers, who were pushing their way up the narrow path, 
driving the Umpondwana before them. The roer was 
loaded with slugs, which, scattering, killed three men; 
moreover, by good fortune, one of the slugs struck Van 
Vooren himself through the fleshy part of the thigh, caus- 
ing him to fall, whereon, thinking him mortally wounded, 
in spite of his curses and commands, his followers lost 
heart and fled, bearing him with them. Sihamba called 
upon her people to follow, but they would not, for they 
feared to meet Swart Piet in the open. 

In truth they began to w^eary of this constant war, which 


259 


was brought upon them through no fault or quarrel of 
their own, and to ask where was that good luck which the 
White Swallow had promised them. Had it not been 
that they loved Suzanne for her beauty and her gentle 
ways, and that Sihamba, by her cleverness and good rule, 
had mastered their minds, there is little doubt indeed but 
that they would have asked Suzanne to depart from among 
them. 

On the day following the attack Sihamba learned that 
Swart Piet lay very sick, having lost much blood, and 
sought to persuade her people to attack him in turn, and 
make an end of him and his robbers. But they would 
not, and so the council broke up, but not before Sihamba 
had spoken bitter words, telling them that they were 
cowards, and would meet the end of cowards, whereat they 
went away sullenly. Afterwards they learned through 
their spies that Van Yooren had gone to Zululand to visit 
the King Dingaan, which Sihamba thought evil tidings, 
for she scented fresh danger in this journey, and not with- 
out reason. But to Suzanne she said nothing. 

Two more months went by peacefully, when one morn- 
ing a herd who was tending the cattle that belonged to 
Suzanne and Sihamba, sought audience of the chieftain- 
ess. 

“ What is it? ” asked Sihamba, for she saw by the man’s 
face that something strange had happened. 

“ This, lady,” he answered. “ When I went down to 
the kloof at dawn, where your cattle and those of the Lady 
Swallow are kraaled, I found among them strange oxen 
to the number of more than a hundred. They are beauti- 
ful oxen, such as I have never seen, for every one of them 
is pure white — white from the muzzle to the tail, and I 
cannot understand how they came among your cattle, for 


260 


the mouth of the kraal was closed as usual last night; more- 
over, I found it closed, this morning.” 

When Sihamba heard this she turned cold to the heart, 
for she knew well that these spotless white cattle must 
come from the royal herd of Dingaan, king of the Zulus, 
since none other were known like them in all the land. 
Also she was sure that Swart Piet had stolen them and 
placed them among her cattle tJTat he might bring down 
upon her and her tribe the terrible wrath of Dingaan, for 
she remembered this mingling of cattle was a trick which 
he had played before. But to the herd she said only that 
doubtless they were cattle that had strayed, and that she 
would make enquiry as to their owner. Then she dis- 
missed him, bidding him to keep a better watch in future. 

Scarcely had he .gone when another man appeared say- 
ing that he had met a Kaffir from beyond the mountains, 
who told him that a party of white men with women and 
children had crossed the Quathlamba range by what is now 
known as Bezuidenhout’s Pass, and were camped near the 
Tugela River. This was strange news to Sihamba, who 
had heard nothing of the whereabouts of the Trek Boers, 
so strange that she would not speak of it to Suzanne, fear- 
ing lest it should fill her with false hopes. But she sent 
for Zinti, and bade him cross the Quathlamba by a little- 
used pass that was known to her near to the place where 
the Tugela takes its rise, and which to-day is called Mont 
aux Sources, and following the river down, to find out 
whether or no it was true that white men were encamped 
upon its banks. When he had done this he was to return 
as swiftly as possible with whatever information he could 
gather. 

This task Zinti undertook gladly, for he loved following 
a spoor, which was a gift that Nature had given him; also 


261 


he was weary of being cooped up like a fatting fowl upon 
the mountain Umpondwana. 

When Zinti had gone Sihamba summoned other messen- 
gers, and commanded them to travel swiftly to the kraal 
ITmgungundlhovo, bearing her homage to Dingaan, king 
of the Amazulus, and asking whether he had lost any of the 
cattle from his royal herds, since certain white oxen had 
been found among her beasts, though how they came there 
she could not tell. These men went also, though in fear 
and trembling, since in those days none loved to approach 
the Lion of the Zulu with tales of cattle of his that had 
strayed among their herd. Still they went, and with doubt 
in her heart Sihamba sat awaiting their return. 


CHAPTER XXVIII 


THE COMING OF THE IMPI 

Sihamba had not very long to wait, for on the evening 
of the fifth day from the starting of the messengers they 
came back at great speed, having run so fast that they 
could scarcely speak for want of breath, and telling her 
that a Zulu impi, numbering more than three thousand 
spears, was advancing upon the Umpondwana to destroy 
them. It seemed that long before the king’s oxen had 
been found mixed with her herd it had been reported to 
Dingaan that Sihamba had stolen them, which was not 
altogether strange, seeing that Swart Piet travelled with 
the impi. As she suspected, he had caused the oxen to be 
stolen, and now he had fixed the deed upon her, knowing 
well that Dingaan only sought a pretext to destroy her 
tribe, with which the Zulus had an ancient quarrel. 

Now there was but one thing to be done — to make ready 
their defence, so, without more ado, Sihamba summoned 
her council and told them that a Zulu impi was at hand 
to eat them up because of the white cattle that had been 
placed among their herds. Then the councillors wrung 
their hands, and some of them shed tears even, although 
they were aged men, for the name of the Zulus struck 
terror to their hearts, and they expected nothing less than 
death for themselves, their wives, and their children. 

262 


263 


“ It is best that we should fly while there is yet time,” 
said the captain of the council. 

“ There is no time,” answered Sihamba; “ the impi will 
be here by dawn and will cut you up upon the plain.” 

“ What then shall we do?” they asked; “we who are 
already dead.” 

“Do?” she cried. “You shall fight as your fathers 
fought before you, and beat back these dogs of Dingaan. 
If you will but be brave, what have you to fear from them? 
You have water, you have food, you have spears, and even 
the Zulus have not wings like eagles with which to fly over 
your walls of cliff. Let them come, and if you will but 
obey me, I promise you that they shall return again to 
make report to the Elephant many fewer than they left his 
kraal.” 

So the Umpondwana made ready to fight, not because 
they loved it, but because they must, for they knew that no 
humbleness would help them in face of the spears of Din- 
gaan. The cattle were driven into the centre kraal, and 
great supplies of grass and green corn were cut to feed 
them. Except for one manhole the pass leading to the 
top of the mountain was closed, and the schanzes, or walls, 
which protected the mouth of the river that welled from 
the hillside between the eastern ridges were strengthened 
and garrisoned. Here, Sihamba knew, was their weak 
place, for this river flowed out beneath the impregnable 
precipices of rock, and to it they must look for their main 
supply of water, since, although the spring upon the table- 
land, if husbanded, would suffice for a supply to the tribe, 
it was not sufficient for the cattle. It was for this reason 
that Sihamba wished to turn the kine loose and let the 
Zulus capture them if they would, for she knew that then 
they could never take the mountain or harm a hair of the 


264 


head of one of its inhabitants. But the Umpondwana 
were greedy, and wonld not consent to the loss of their 
cattle, forgetting that cattle are of no value to dead men. 
They said that they could very well defend the schanzes 
which surrounded the source of the river, and that from it 
sufficient water could be carried to keep the beasts alive, 
oven if the siege were long. 

“ As you will,” answered Sihamba shortly, “ but see that 
you do defend them when the Zulu warriors leap upon the 
walls, for if you fail then you will lose cattle and life 
together.” 

All this time, according to her daily custom, Suzanne 
had been . seated in her chair of rock upon the highest 
point of the precipice looking for that help which never 
came. Presently, as she watched with sad eyes, far away 
upon the plain she saw a cloud of dust in which moved and 
shone the sheen of spears. Now she climbed down from 
her seat, and ran to seek Sihamba, whom she found sur- 
rounded by her councillors. 

“ What is it, Swallow? ” asked the little chief tainess 
looking up, though already she had guessed the answer. 

Suzanne told her, adding, “ Who can it be that travels 
towards the mountain with so great a force? ” 

“ Lady Swallow,” said Sihamba gravely, “ it is an army 
of the Zulus sent by Dingaan to destroy us, and with them 
marches Bull Head.” And she told her of the trick of the 
cattle and of what the messengers had seen. 

Suzanne heard, and her face grew white as the goatskin 
cloak she wore. 

• “ Then at last the long story is at an end,” she faltered, 
for she knew the terrible prowess of the Zulus, and how 
none could stand before their onslaught. 

“ Yes, of that impi there is an end,” answered Sihamba 


265 


proudly, “ if these children of mine will hut take heart and 
fight as their fathers fought. Fear not, Lady Swallow, 
nothing that has not wings can storm the mountain of 
Umpondwana.” 

But for all that she could say Suzanne still felt much 
afraid, which was not strange, for she knew that the heart 
was out of these soldiers of Sihamba, and knew, moreover, 
that a Zulu army did not dare to be defeated, for which 
reason it must either take the mountain or fight till it was 
destroyed. 

Now all was confusion; the horns blew and women 
wailed, while the captains of the Umpondwana issued their 
commands, and the men piled up stones upon the brink 
of the precipice to roll down upon the foe, and drove 
the herds of cattle into the great kraal upon the table- 
land. 

Marching quickly, the impi drew near and the defenders 
could see that it numbered about four thousand spears and 
was composed of two separate regiments. At a distance of 
a mile it halted and throwing out horns or wings sur- 
rounded the mountain, up the slopes of which it advanced 
in a thin circle, much as beaters do who are driving game 
to a certain point. As the circle drew near to the cliffs it 
thickened, having less ground to cover, though still there 
was a gap here and there. 

Presently those who were watching saw a man dart 
through one of these gaps and run up hill at great speed, 
followed by Zulu soldiers, who tried to kill him. But he 
was the swifter of foot, moreover he knew the path, so 
that before they could come up with him he reached the 
great stone walls which were built about the source of the 
river, and was dragged over them by the defenders. 

A while later this man appeared upon the top of the 


266 


mountain and proved to be none other than Zinti, who 
had returned from his errand, and, having news to tell, 
risked his life to pass through the impi before the strong- 
hold was altogether surrounded. Sihamba received him at 
once, Suzanne standing at her side, and bade him be brief 
for she had little time to listen to long stories. 

“ I will be brief,” Zinti answered. “ Lady, as you bade 
me I crossed the mountains by the road of which you told 
me. It is a good road for men on foot or horseback, but 
waggons could not travel it. Having reached the plain 
on the further side I followed the bank of the river, till 
suddenly I came in sight of thirty waggons drawn up in a 
laager upon a knoll of ground, and among the waggons I 
saw Boers with their wives and children. I tried to go up 
to speak to them, but a young Boer, seeing me, shot at me 
with his gun, so I thought it safer to lie hid. At night- 
fall, however, I met the driver of one of the waggons, a 
Kaffir man, at some distance from the laager, where he 
was watching by a pit made to catch bucks, and fell into 
talk with him. He told me that this was 'a party of the 
Boers who had trekked from Cape Colony, and were taking- 
possession of Katal, and that there were other such parties 
scattered about the country. He said that in this party 
there were five-and-twenty men with women and children, 
but he did not know the names of any of them. Also he 
told me that he meant to run away, as he heard that 
Dingaan was going to attack the white people, and was sure 
that if he did so they would be eaten up, for these Boers, 
thinking themselves quite safe, had grown very careless, 
and neither made their laager as strong as it should be 
nor set any watch at night. Having learned this I re- 
turned at once to make report to you, nor did I come too 
quickly, for the Zulus nearly caught me as I passed their 


267 


ranks. I saw Bull Head as I ran; he is riding a brown 
horse, and seems qnite recovered from his wound.” 

“How far is the Boer laager from this place?” asked 
Sihamba before Suzanne could speak. 

“ Lady, a man on a good horse could reach it in seven 
hours, nor is it possible to mistake the way. After cross- 
ing the plain you enter the gorge by the saw-edged rock 
yonder, and follow its windings across the mountains till 
you come out the other side, where the river runs down to 
the flat country. Then you can keep along the hank , of 
the river as I did when I went, or if you wish to go more 
quickly you must head for a large white-topped hill, or 
koppie, which can be seen from the mountains, and when 
you come to it you will find the Boer laager upon the knoll 
qt its foot, hut near to the hanks of the river, which winds 
round it.” 

“ Oh! let us go; let us go quickly,” said Suzanne spring- 
ing to her feet, for the thought even of seeing a white man 
again made her drunk with hope. 

“Alas! sister,” answered Sihamba sadly, “an hour ago 
we might have gone, or rather you might have gone, 
mounted on the great schimmel, hut now — look,” and she 
pointed to where the Zulus clustered like bees along the 
banks of the river by which the path ran. “ See,” she 
added, “there is but one road out of this stronghold, for 
nowhere else can the surest-footed climber in the world 
descend its cliffs, no, not with a rope to help him, and 
that road is thick with Zulu spears; moreover, a certain 
man whom you do not wish to see waits for you upon 
it.” 

Suzanne looked. “Too late,” she moaned. “Oh! 
surely my God has forsaken me! Within six hours of 
safety and doomed to perish here; oh! surely my God has 


268 


forsaken me! ” and she burst out weeping in the bitterness 
of her disappointed hope. 

“ Say not so,” answered Sihamba gently, “ for I think 
that the Great One whom you worship will save you yet.” 

As she spoke a messenger arrived saying that the Zulus 
had sent forward heralds who desired to speak with her, 
and that these heralds waited within earshot of the first 
wall. 

“ I will come,” said Sihamba, and she passed down the 
cleft and through the man-hole into the fortifications 
which were built about the source of the river. But she 
would not allow Suzanne to accompany her. 

When she reached the outer wall she climbed it and 
stood upon it, for Sihamba was a woman who knew no fear, 
and there, about forty paces away, she saw three great 
Zulus standing, and with them him whom she dreaded 
more than all the Zulus on the earth — Piet Van Yooren him- 
self. When the Zulu captains caught sight of her upon 
the wall, they jeered aloud and asked whether this was in- 
deed Sihamba Ygenyanga, or if a she-monkey had been 
sent to talk with them. 

“ I am Sihamba,” she answered quietly, “ or I am a 
monkey, as it may please you, though the white man with 
you can tell you what I am.” 

“ I can,” said Piet with a laugh. “ You are a witch and 
a thief, and the fate that I promised you long ago is with 
you at last.” 

“ Murderer,” mocked Sihamba in answer, “ I see Death 
standing behind you, and with him shadows of the Fear to 
come. But I would speak with these chiefs and not with 
an outcast half-breed. Tell me, chiefs, why do you come 
up against my stronghold with so great a force ? ” 

“ Because that f Elephant whose tread shakes the earth/ 


269 


our master, Dingaan the king, has sent us,” answered the 
spokesman of the captains. 

“ Say, now, on what errand, chief? ” 

“ On this errand; to take your stronghold and cattle, to 
burn your kraal, and to kill your people, all of them save 
the marriageable girls and such children as are old enough 
to travel, who must he brought with the cattle to Dingaan. 
But you yourself and the white woman who is called Swal- 
low who rules with you are to he handed over to Bull Head 
here to do with as he will, for that is the bargain between 
him and the king.” 

“ And why are these things to come upon us who have 
done no wrong? ” asked Sihamba. 

“ Why, little woman! ” answered the chief, “ because you 
have dared to steal cattle from the king’s herd, even the 
royal white cattle; yes, and they have been traced to your 
mountain and seen among your oxen.” 

“ It is true that the cattle are here,” said Sihamba, “ hut 
it is not true that we have stolen them, seeing that they 
were lifted by the white man, Bull Head, and mixed up 
with our herds to bring us into trouble with the king.” 

u A fit tale for the king’s ears,” replied the captain, 
laughing. “ Why, it was Bull Head who told the king 
of the theft; hut let that pass. Dingaan the king is merci- 
ful, and he makes you this offer through my mouth: If 
you will return the cattle together with all your own by 
way of fine, and hand over your councillors and head men 
to he killed, then he will grant the rest their lives. But 
all the young men and the girls must come with me to pass 
into the service of the king, the married women and the 
children going where they will. Perhaps Bull Head here 
will take them with yourself and White Swallow. What is 
your word, little chief tainess ? ” 


270 


“ My word is that we will have none of such mercy. It 
is better that we should die together, but I tell you, men of 
Dingaan, that these rocks will be white with your bones 
before ever you drive our cattle and maidens back to 
Dingaan.” 

“As you will, little chief tainess. We captains of the 
Zulus have heard many such proud words in our time, but 
ah! where are those who spoke them? Ask the jackals and 
the vultures, little chieftainess.” 


CHAPTEK XXIX 


THIRST 

When Sihamba finished her talk with the captains of 
Dingaan the snn was already sinking. Still the Umpond- 
wana thought that the Zulus would attack at once, hut 
these shouted to the defenders that they might rest easily 
till the dawn, since they wished to have daylight by which 
to divide the spoil. And at daylight the attack came. 
Driving the men of Bull Head in front of them much 
against their will, for they knew these to be cowards, and 
wished to make mock of them, company by company the 
Zulus rushed at the stone wall, though many of them were 
killed and often they were driven back. But always they 
came on laughing and shouting their war-cry till the arms 
of the Umpondwana grew weary with stabbing at them as 
their plumed heads appeared above the level of the wall. 
Still, fighting under the eye of Sihamba, whose bitter 
tongue they feared, her people held their own, for indeed 
the place was almost impregnable to the attacks of men 
armed only with spears however brave they might be, and 
had it been defended by warriors of true Zulu blood it 
could never have been taken. 

When the fight had raged for an hour or more the Zulu 
captains withdrew their men, and went apart to consult 
with Van Yooren, for their loss was heavy, and they saw 

271 


272 


that if they were to capture the head waters of the river 
they must seek some other plan. Very soon they found it. 
The river issued from the side of the mountain not as a 
little stream but as a broad fierce water. So deep and 
rapid was it that the triple line of defence works of the 
Umpondwana were built only to its edge, for the water 
ran through a rocky 'gorge, although thorn trees fastened 
by their trunks were thrust out for ten or twelve feet over 
the hanks of the gorge from either side of the stream. 
Now, in the centre of this river, which may have been 
thirty paces wide, ran a long ridge or saddle of rock over 
which the water boiled furiously, although here it was not 
more than three feet deep. This ridge began at a point 
within the last line of walls and ran down to some five-and- 
twenty paces below the first wall. Swart Piet had noted 
the ridge. 

“ There is a saddle on which you may ride to victory,” 
he said. 

“ How so, Bull Head? ” asked the captain. 

“ Thus. Yonder stand trees with tall stems and green 
tops; cut them down and make a bridge from the bank to 
the saddle; then wade up the saddle where the water is not 
more than waist deep, till you are past the third wall and 
reach the bank inside it as best you can.” 

Now although he was a brave man, as were all the Zulus 
in those days, the captain looked long and doubtfully at 
the white water which foamed upon the ridge. 

“ There is death in that water,” he said. 

“ Death for some and victory for others,” answered Van 
Yooren, “ but if you fear it, go back to Dingaan and tell 
him so, for in no other way can this mountain be taken, 
seeing that it is impregnable, and that thirst alone can con- 
quer it.” 


273 


“ I fear nothing, white man/’ answered the Zulu, “ hut 
if you are so brave, why, show us black people the way 
along yonder ridge! ” 

Piet shrugged his shoulders. “ I wish to keep alive for 
reasons of my own; besides, I am not a soldier of Dingaan,” 
he answered. 

Then the captain turned and commanded such men as 
had battle axes to cut down three of the longest trees, 
which they did, although the task was difficult, for the 
wood was hard and their axes were light. When at length 
the trees were down they rolled them uphill to a spot where 
the ridge of rock ended, which was not more than thirty 
paces from the face of the outer wall. Now it was that 
Sihamba guessed their purpose for the first time, for until 
then she had believed that they were cutting the trees to 
use them as battering rams against the walls. 

“ They are coming on us by the path of the river,” she 
said, and called for men to sally out and prevent them 
making the bridge from the bank to the saddle. But none 
answered her, for they dared not face the Zulus in the 
open. 

“ The water will sweep them away,” they said; “ more- 
over, when they try to land we can spear them.” 

“ Cowards,” she moaned, “ on your own heads be your 
doom.” 

So the Umpondwana contented themselves with stand- 
ing behind the first wall and casting volleys of spears at 
those who thrust out the trees within thirty paces of them, 
while Zinti shot at them with his gun, killing several. 
But coming between, the Zulus made a shield hedge to 
protect their comrades, so that the light throwing assegais 
did little hurt, and of the few that the gun killed they 
thought nothing. 


274 


Presently the ends of the trees lay beneath the water on 
the ridge of rock, and the captain commanded a certain 
induna to lead his men across. Now all natives fear a wet 
death, and though he was a brave man who would gladly 
have rushed at the fortifications alone had he been so 
commanded, this soldier to whom the captain spoke looked 
askance at the furious torrent and hesitated. But that 
captain had served under Chaka, and knew how to deal 
with those who showed doubt or fear. Lifting his heavy 
assegai, he drove it through the man, so that he fell dead, 
and as he smote cried, “ Coward, take this gift from the 
king! ” 

Then, calling to the soldiers, he himself ran out upon 
the bridge of tree-trunks and leaped into the water that 
rose to his middle. In an instant he would have been 
swept away, for the current was very fierce, had not those 
who followed sprung down at his side and behind him. 
For a moment they managed to keep their feet till others 
came, giving them support and being themselves protected 
by a breakwater built of the men who had gone first. 
Then, forming in a double line, each man linked his arms 
round the middle of his comrade in front, as Kaffir girls 
link themselves in a dance, and very slowly this human 
chain began to struggle forward along the back of the 
ridge. At times, indeed, the weight of the stream was 
almost too much for them, and swept some of them off into 
the deep water which ran on either side, but the strong- 
rope of human muscles held, and they were dragged back 
again. Now they were between the lip of the first walls, 
and the Umpondwana soldiers hurled spears at them from 
the banks, killing many. But if a man was slain, or even 
badly wounded, his companion who held him let go, and, 
if needful, thrust him into the water who could no longer 


275 


serve the king. Then he gripped the soldier who stood in 
front of the lost one, and the chain dragged on. 

“ Oh! men of the Umpondwana,” cried Sihamba, “ had 
yon but half the heart of these, who are brave, we need fear 
nothing from Dingaan,” and the Zulus in the stream who 
heard her called in answer: — 

“ You are right, little chief tainess, we are brave.” 

Slowly the black snake-like line pressed forward through 
the white foam, never heeding the storm of spears that 
slew continually, till the point of it was well within the 
third line of walls. Then the captain, who by some chance 
had escaped, called an order to those behind him, and the 
head of the double line leapt off the ridge of rock into deep 
water, and swimming with their feet, but still gripping 
with their hands, suffered themselves to be swung round 
by the current towards the bank, twenty yards away. Here 
some rocks jutted out, and these, after a great struggle, 
they were able to grasp and hold. 

Then followed what Suzanne, who was watching from 
above, afterwards declared to be the strangest sight she had 
ever seen, for these men, who swung to and fro in the 
current anchored, as it were, to the ridge and the bank, 
made of their living bodies a bridge for their fellows. Yes, 
their companions ran and crawled over them, springing 
from shoulder to shoulder, and driving their heads beneath 
the water with the push of their clinging feet. Half- 
drowned and almost torn in two as they were, still they 
held on till enough men were safe on shore to finish the 
fray. For when the ITmpondwana saw that the Zulus had 
won the bank they did not stay to kill them while they 
landed, as might easily have been done; no, dragging Si- 
hamba with them, they ran into the gorge leading to the 
flat top of the mountain, and blocked it with great stones 


that were ready. And so it came about that the Zulus won 
that fight, though with great loss to themselves, and cut 
off the Umpondwana from their main supply of water. 

But though they had won the fight they had not won 
the mountain. After resting a while they began the work 
of storming the narrow gorge that led upwards to the table- 
land, for this gorge was its only gate, and at first were 
suffered to pull down or climb over the walls which were 
built across it with but little resistance. Soon, however, 
they found out the reason of this, for when a number of 
them were in the gorge stones began to roll upon them 
from the edges of the cliffs above, crushing the life out of 
many, so that presently they were driven back to the head 
of the river. Afterwards they searched long and earnestly 
but could find no other path by which to attack, for there 
was none. 

“ Well,” said the Zulu captain, “ it seems that we must 
fight the fight of 6 sit-down/ and since these rock-rabbits 
will not let us come to them we must wail till they come to 
us to ask for water.” 

So they waited for seven whole days, setting guards 
about the mountain in case there should be secret ways of 
egress of which they knew nothing. 

When they reached the tableland Sihamba spoke words 
so bitter to her councillors and captains that some of them 
stopped their ears that they might hear no more, while 
others answered that they could do nothing against men 
who walked upon the boiling waters. 

“Now, indeed, you can do nothing against them,” Si- 
hamba cried, “ for Thirst will fight for them, and he is the 
best of friends. Because of your cowardice we must perish, 
everyone of us, and for my part I should be glad of it were 


277 


it not that you have given the Lady Swallow to death 
also.” 

Then she buried her face in the ground and would say 
no more, even when they told her that the Zulus had been 
beaten back by the rocks that were rolled down upon 
them. 

For some days the little spring gave enough water for 
the thousands of people who were crowded upon the moun- 
tain top, though there was none to spare for the cattle. 
But on the third night the poor beasts being maddened by 
thirst, broke out of the kraal and rushing to the spring, 
so trampled it with their hoofs that its waters were sealed 
up, and only very little could be obtained even by digging, 
for here the rock came near to the surface of the soil, and 
it would seem as though the course of the spring was 
turned or choked beneath it. 

Then all those upon that mountain began to suffer the 
horrors of thirst. Soon the cattle were altogether mad and 
rushed to and fro in herds, bellowing furiously and goring 
everyone they met, or trampling them to the earth. Now 
the Umpondwana strove to be rid of them by driving them 
down the gorge, but the Zulus, guessing the trouble that 
the presence of these beasts was bringing upon them, would 
not suffer them to pass. Next they attempted to force 
them over the edge of the precipice, but when they were 
driven to it the oxen turned and charged through them, 
killing several men. After this they contented themselves 
with stabbing the most dangerous of the animals, and 
leaving the rest to rush to and fro as they would, for they 
did not care to kill them all lest their carcasses should 
breed a pestilence. 

The sixth day came, and, oh! the great kraal of the 
Umpondwana was but as a hell wherein lost souls wandered 


278 


in torment, for the sun beat down upon it fiercely and 
everywhere roamed or lay men, women and children over- 
come with the torture of thirst; indeed, of the last, some 
were already dead, especially those who were at the breast, 
for their mothers’ milk was dry. Here three men had 
dragged an old wife from her hut, and were beating her 
to make her reveal the store of water which she was be- 
lieved to have hidden; there others were cutting the throat 
of an ox that they might drink its blood, and yonder a 
little girl was turning stones to lick the damp side of them 
with her poor parched tongue. 

In the midst of these scenes which passed, outside her 
hut, sat Sihamba brooding. As chieftainess she still had 
about a pint of water stored in a jar, but though she had 
made Suzanne drink, herself she drank but little, for she 
would not consent to suffer less than those about her. 

Now Sihamba’s eyes fell upon the child who was licking 
stones, and her heart was wrung with pity. Going into the 
hut she fetched most of the water in a gourd, and calling 
to the child, who staggered towards her, for she could 
scarcely walk, she gave it to her, bidding her drink 
slowly. 

In a moment it was gone, every drop of it, and, behold! 
the dim eyes brightened, and the shrunken limbs seemed 
to grow round again, while the young voice, no longer high 
and cracked, praised and blessed her name. Sihamba 
motioned the child away, then she went into the hut to 
weep, only weep she could not, since her eyes were too dry 
for tears. 

“ Three more days,” she thought to herself, “ and they 
will all be dead unless rain should fall. Yes, the cowards, 
and those whom their cowardice has betrayed will all be 
dead together.” 


279 


As she thought thus, Suzanne entered the hut, and there 
was tidings in their eyes. 

“What is it, sister,” asked Sihamba, “and whence do 
you come?” 

“ I come from the high seat upon the edge of the cliff,” 
she answered, “where have I sat all day, for I can no 
longer hear these sights, and I have this to tell, that the 
Zulus are marching across the plain, hut not towards Zulu- 
land, since they head for the Quathlamba Mountains.” 


CHAPTER XXX 


SIHAMBA PREVAILS 

How a fire of hope shot up in Sihamba’s eyes, but soon 
it died out again. 

“ It is a trick, it must be a trick,” she said, “ for who 
ever heard of a Zulu loosing the prey that was in his hand? 
Hever dare he do it save by the command of the king,” and 
she left the hut to be met by others running with the same 
tidings. Of these she sent some down the gorge to bring 
her report of what had happened, and with them Zinti, for 
she could not altogether trust the word of her own people. 

Within an hour the messengers returned, and on their 
faces was a strange look which, clever as she was, she did. 
not understand. 

“ Is the path clear? ” she asked. 

“ Ho, chief tainess,” they replied, “ it is still blocked, for 
though the Zulus have gone we know not where by order 
received from Dingaan, Bull Head holds it with such of his 
own men as are left alive.” 

“ Had you speech with the white man? ” she asked. 

“ Yes, lady.” 

“ Say on.” 

How they looked about them like people that are 
ashamed, but at last the oldest of them spoke. 

“ Chieftainess,” he said, “ Bull Head made us this offer 
280 


281 


and in these words: ‘ Yon people of the Umpondwana, 
you are dying of thirst and I know it; though the Zulus 
have gone and but few of us are left here, yet you cannot 
force the narrow way against us, so that I have only to sit 
here for a few days longer and you will be dead of thirst, 
everyone of you, you and your cattle together. But I do 
not wish that you should die, for with you I have no 
quarrel; also if you die one will perish among you whom I 
desire to keep alive. Therefore I make you this offer. 
Hand over to me your ruler, Sihamba Hgenyanga, and with 
her the white woman named Swallow, and you yourselves 
shall go free, everyone of you; more, although I will take 
this stronghold of yours to live in myself, I will give back 
to you the half of the cattle. How, answer . 5 55 

“ Lady, when he had finished speaking we consulted 
together and answered Bull Head thus: ‘We cannot give 
over to you our chieftainess and her white sister, for it is 
better to die than that such dishonour should lie upon our 
names. But if you will let us go, you can take them from 
among our number as we pass before you, for that will be 
no fault of ours, or if they do not choose to accompany us, 
after we have gone by you can ascend the mountain and 
take them . 5 

“ To this Bull Head assented, saying, c Set the Lady 
Swallow in her chair upon the cliff edge and Sihamba at 
her side so that my eyes seeing them may know that they 
are safe, and you shall go . 5 So it was agreed between us 
that to-morrow at the dawn he will open the wall and let 
us down to the river to drink, after which we may pass 
whither we will . 55 

How when Sihamba heard these shameful words her rage 
was so great that for a while she could not even speak. 
At length she found her tongue and gasped out: 


282 


“ Oh! father of cowards, do you dare to sing such a song 
in my ears? Why do not you, who are many, stcrm the 
pass and take the water? ” 

“ Lady,” answered the old man coldly, cc we dare because 
we must, for honour cannot live before the assegai of thirst. 
You talk to us of storming! the pass; wei cannot storm its, for 
ten men can hold that place against a hundred; also our 
arms are weak and we are weary of war. Listen; on the 
one hand are the lives of thousands, with them your own 
and that of the White Swallow, and on the other this dis- 
honour. We choose the dishonour, since if you and the 
Swallow do not desire to fall into the hands of Bull Head, 
you can still do what you must have done had we chosen 
honour. Lady, you can die, knowing that by your death 
you have saved the lives of the multitude over whom you 
rule. 

“ Listen again, lady, we did not seek you, it was you who 
came back to us after the death of the chief, your brother. 
We accepted you and you have ruled us justly for these 
two years, but you wish to make of us a lighting people 
who are and who desire to remain a people of peace. More- 
over, you promised that the white chieftainess, your com- 
panion, would bring us prosperity and good, whereas to us 
she has been a bird of ill-omen, for since she came here on 
her account there has been war and nothing but war. Yes, 
because of her we have been cooped up on this mountain 
and killed whenever we ventured on to the plains beyond; 
therefore we will have no more of her, she must find her 
own fortune, for we have our lives and those of our wives 
and children to save. 

“ Further, I say this : the news of the offer of Bui] Head 
has gone abroad among the people, and had we refused they 
would have torn us limb from limb, yes, and you and the 


288 


White Swallow also. Our hearts are sad, hut lady, who 
can fight against fate? 99 

“ I can,” answered Sihamba, “ but have no fear, to- 
morrow at the dawn you shall see us set out upon the cliff 
point; and now, father of cowards, begone, and let me see 
your face no more. Betray us if you will, you who were 
not men enough to hold the water, you who are not men 
enough to cut a path to it as you might, and therefore must 
complete your cowardice with treachery. Betray us if you 
will, but I tell you that you shall not go free from this dis- 
grace. The curse of Chaka shall fall upon you and the 
blade of the spear shall be the inheritance of you who are 
afraid to grasp its shaft. Begone ! 99 and withered by her 
words and the fire of her eyes, the spokesmen of the Um- 
pondwana crept like' beaten hounds from the presence of 
their deserted chief tainess. 

Here I will stop the tale to say that this prophecy of 
Sihamba’s came true, as did all the prophecies of that 
strange woman, who, with other gifts, without doubt had 
that of foresight. A few years later, when Panda was 
king, and their wars with us Boers were ended, the Zulus, 
who never forget a quarrel, swooped down upon the Um- 
pondwana unawares, and storming the mountain by night, 
put all the men on it to the spear, and carried away the 
women and children to Zululand, so that of this tribe there 
remains nothing but some crumbling walls and a name of 
shame. 

How the sun set upon that home of thirst, and all was 
silent in it save for the sound of the hoofs of the galloping 
cattle as they rushed hither and thither, and the groaning 
of the women and children, who wandered about seeking 


\ 


284 


grass to chew, for the sake of the night damps that gath- 
ered on it. Sihamba went into the great hut where she 
always slept with Suzanne, whom she found seated upon a 
stool, wan-faced, and her eyes set wide with misery of mind 
and body. 

“ What passes now? ” asked Suzanne. 

The little woman came to her, and throwing her arms 
about her neck she kissed her, answering: 

“Alas! sister, all things pass, and with them our lives/’ 
and she told her of the surrender of the Umpondwana and 
its terms. 

Suzanne listened in silence, for grief and despair had 
done their worst with her, and her heart could hold no 
more pain. 

“ So it is finished at last,” she said, when Sihamba had 
spoken, “ and this is the end of all our toil and strivings 
and of our long fight against fate. Yes, this is the end: 
that we must die, or at the least I must die, for I will 
choose death rather than that Yan Vooren should lay a 
finger upon me. Well, I should care little were it not that 
now I believe my husband to be still alive, and it is hard 
to go before him into yonder darkness, though I believe 
also that the darkness which we fear will prove such a 
happy light as does not shine upon this earth,” and she laid 
her head upon Sihamba’s breast and they wept together. 

Presently Sihamba said, “ My mind, that was wont to be 
clear, is darkened. Pray to your God, you who are of His 
people, that He may send light upon it, so that I can think 
once more while there is yet time. Now we wander in the 
forest of despair, but never yet was there a forest so thick 
that it cannot be passed. Pray then that I may be given 
light, for your life hangs upon it.” 

So Suzanne prayed, and presently, as she prayed, her 


285 


weariness overcame her and she slept, and Sihamba slept 
also. When Sihamba awoke it was within an hour of mid- 
night. A little lamp of oil burnt in the hut, and by the 
light of it she could see the white face of Suzanne lying at 
her side, and groaned in her bitterness to think that before 
the sun set again that face must be whiter still, for she 
knew that the Swallow was not of the mind of the Um- 
pondwana, who preferred dishonour to death. “ Oh! that 
my wisdom might come back to me,” she murmured. 
“ Oh! Great-Great, God of my sister, give me back my 
wisdom and 1 will pay my life for it. Oh! Lighter of the 
stars, for myself I ask nothing, who am not of Thy people. 
Let eternal death be my portion, but give me back my 
wisdom that I may save my sister who serves Thee.” 

Thus prayed Sihamba out of the depth of her untutored 
heart, not for herself but for another, and it would seem 
that her prayer was heard; though many among our people 
think that God does not listen to the black creatures. At 
the least, as her eyes wandered around the hut, they fell 
upon certain jars of earthenware. Now during the years 
that she dwelt among the Umpondwana Suzanne had but 
two pastimes. One of them was to carve wood with a 
knife, and the other to paint pictures upon jars, for which 
art she always had a taste, these jars being afterwards 
burnt in the fire. For pigments he used certain clays or 
ochres, red and black and white and yellow, which were 
found in abundance on the slopes of the mountain, and 
also a kind of ink that she made by boiling down the ker- 
nels of the fruit of the green-leaved tree which grew by the 
banks of the river. 

Now it was as she gazed at these jars of pigments and the 
brushes of goatVhair that the wisdom which she sought 
came to Sihamba; yes, in a moment it came to her, in a 


286 


moment her plan was made, and she knew that it would 
not fail. To-morrow at the dawn the Umpondwana, to 
the number of several thousands, would pour through the 
pass on to the plain beyond. Well, Suzanne should go 
with them, she should go as a black woman! Already her 
hair and eyes were dark, and with those pigments her snow- 
white flesh could he darkened also, and then in the crowd 
who would know her from a Kaffir girl, she who could 
talk the language as though she had been horn a Kaffir. 
Stay! Bull-Head was artful and clever, and perhaps he 
might be ready for such a trick. How could she deceive 
him? 

Again she looked at the jars, and again wisdom came to 
her. It was the habit of Suzanne to sit in her dizzy chair 
of rock and watch the sunrise, hoping ever that in the 
light of it she might see white men riding to rescue her, 
and this Van Vooren knew, for she could be seen from the 
mouth of the pass below, where from hour to hour he 
would stand gazing at her a thousand feet above his head. 

Well, to-morrow at the dawn another white woman 
should be seated yonder to satisfy his eyes, or at least a 
woman who seemed to be white. On the cliff edge, not far 
from this very rock lay the body of a poor girl who that 
day had died of thirst. If its face and arms and feet were 
painted white, and Suzanne’s cloak of white goat’s hair 
were set upon its shoulders, and the corpse itself placed 
upright in the chair, who, looking at it from hundreds of 
feet beneath, could guess that it was not Suzanne, and 
who, seeing it set aloft, would seek for Suzanne among the 
crowd of escaping Kaffirs? The plan was good; it. could 
scarcely fail, only time pressed. 

“ Sister, awake,” whispered Sihamba. Suzanne sat up 
at once, for the sleep of the doomed is light. “ Listen, 


287 


sister/’ went on Sihmaba, “ that wisdom for which you 
prayed has come to me/’ and she told her all the plan. 

“ H is very clever, and it may serve/’ answered Suzanne, 
“ for I understand these paints and can stain myself, so 
that if my hair is cut none would know me from a Kaffir. 
But, Sihamba, there is one thing which I do not under- 
stand. What will you do? For if you attempt to escape 
your stature will betray you.” 

“ I ? ” hesitated the little woman, “ nay, I do not know, 
I have never thought of it. Doubtless I shall win through 
in this way or in that.” 

“You are deceiving me, Sihamba. Well, there is an 
end, I will not go without you.” 

“ Can you think of death and say that you will not go 
without me? ” 

“ I can Sihamba.” 

“ Can you think of your father and your mother and say 
that you will not go without me? ” 

“ I can, Sihamba.” 

“ Can you think of your husband and say that you will 
not go without me? ” 

“ I can,” faltered Suzanne. 

“ Truly you are brave,” laughed the little woman. 
“ There is more courage in that white heart of yours than 
in those of all the Umpondwana. Well, sister, I also am 
brave, or at the least for these many moons I have set my- 
self a task, nor will I shrink from it at the end, and that is 
to save you from Piet Van Yooren as once at a dearer price 
you saved me. Now, hearken, for myself I have no fear; 
as I have said, doubtless in this way or in that I shall win 
through, but it cannot be at your side. I must rejoin you 
afterwards. What, you refuse to go? Then, Lady Swal- 
low, you send me down to death and your hands are red 


with my blood. I am weary, I will not live to see more 
trouble; life is hard and death is easy. Finish your own 
battle, Swallow, and fly out your flight alone,” and drawing 
a knife from her girdle Sihamba laid it upon her knee. 

“ Do you mean that you will kill yourself if I refuse your 
prayer? ” 

“ Nothing less, sister, and at once, for I thirst, and would 
seek some land where there is water, or where we need 
none. It comes to this, then: if you consent I may live, if 
you refuse I must die.” 

“ I cannot do it,” moaned Suzanne. “ Let us die to- 
gether.” 

Now Sihamba crept to her and whispered in her ear: 

“ Think of Ralph Kenzie and of what his life must be if 
you should die. Think of those children who will come, 
and of that first kiss of love found again which you must 
miss in death, whatever else it may have to give. Think 
of the knife’s point that you would change for it, or the 
last sick rush down a mountain height of space. Think of 
your husband. Hark! I hear him calling you.” 

Then Suzanne yielded. 

“ 0 woman with a noble heart,” she murmured, “ I listen 
to your tempting; may God forgive me and God reward 
you, 0 woman with the noble heart.” 


CHAPTER XXXI 


sihamba’s fakewell 

Then they began the work, for much must he done be- 
fore the daylight came. First Sihamba took a sharp knife, 
and with it cut off Suzanne’s beautiful hair close to’ the 
head, over which what was left of it curled naturally. To 
disguise it further, for though it was dark it was too fine 
for the hair of a native, she put grease upon it and pow- 
dered it with the blue dust that Kaffir women use. This 
done, the poor girl stripped herself, and with the help of 
Sihamba smeared all her body, every inch of it down to the 
soles of her feet, with the ink-like juice mixed with the 
black earth and grease, which when it was dry made her 
the colour of a Kaffir. Xext Sihamba dressed her in a 
native woman’s moocha made of skin and heads, and gave 
her an old skin blanket to wear upon her shoulders and 
hide sandals for her feet, together with anklets of heads 
and copper wire. Then having examined her all over to 
see that no sign of her white skin could he seen through 
the pigments, and burned the long tresses of her hair, Si- 
hamba went to the door of the hut. 

“ Where are you going? ” asked Suzanne. 

“ To find Zinti,” she answered, “ for now we must have 
his help.” 

“Ho, no,” cried Suzanne, “I am ashamed to be seen 
thus by any man.” 


289 


290 


“ Wherefore, Swallow, seeing that for some days you are 
but a Kaffir woman, and this is their dress, of which none 
think harm? Kay, you must, for remember that if you 
show doubt or shame, you will betray yourself.” 

Then with a groan Suzanne yielded, and crouching upon 
the floor like a native, awaited the return of Sihamba. 
Presently she came, followed by Zinti, who was in good 
case, though somewhat thin, for Zinti was clever and provi- 
dent, and, foreseeing what would come, he had hidden 
water for himself among the rocks. 

“ Zinti,” said Sihamba, “ I would speak with you of 
secret matters.” 

“ Speak on, lady,” he answered — here his eyes fell 
upon Suzanne crouched on the -ground in the full light of 
the lamp — “ but there is a stranger present.” 

“ This is no stranger, Zinti,” said Sihamba, “ but one 
whom you know well.” 

“ Indeed, lady, I know her not. Should I forget one so 
beautiful? And yet— and yet — ” and he rubbed his eyes 
and stared, gasping, “ it cannot be.” 

“ Yes, it is, Zinti. There sits the lady Swallow and none 
other.” 

Kow although there was a little mirth left in him, Zinti 
burst out laughing till the tears ran from his eyes, and 
Sihamba struck him with her hands, calling him “ Fool,” 
and commanding him to be silent. 

“ Wow! ” he said, “ this is wonderful. This is magic 
indeed. She who was white as snow has become black as coal, 
and yes, she looks best black. Oh! this is magic indeed.” 

At his words Suzanne sprang up looking as though she 
were about to weep, and Sihamba stopped his lips with 
fierce words and blows, though he took small heed of either, 
but stood staring. 


291 


“ Zinti,” Sihamba said, “ you have done me many serv- 
ices, but to-day you must do me tbe greatest of all. Tbis 
morning at the daylight the lady Swallow will pass with 
the multitude down the cleft yonder and none will know 
her in that disguise. You must go with her, hut not too 
near her, and cross the plain, meeting her by the saw-edged 
rock which stands yonder at the mouth of the gorge in the 
Quathlamba mountains. Then you must lead her as fast 
as you can travel to that camp of the Boers which is near 
the Tugela River, where she will he safe. Do you under- 
stand? ” 

I understand, lady. But what of yourself? ” 

“ It is my plan to hide on the mountain/’ Sihamba an- 
swered quickly, “ in a secret place I know of, seeing that 
it is impossible that I should escape because my stature 
would betray me. I will join you at the Boer camp later; 
or, failing that, you can return in a while — say on the first 
night of the new moon — to search for me. But talk no 
more, for we have still much to do. Yes, we who have 
made a white woman black, must make a black woman 
white. Follow me, both of you,” and giving Zinti a jar 
of pigment and the long goat-skin cloak which Suzanne 
wore for an outer garment, she left the hut, carrying in her 
hand strips of ox-hide tanned white. 

Avoiding the groups of thirst-tormented people who sat 
or wandered about in the coolness of the night, they passed 
through the gates of the kraal unheeded, and walkings 
quickly across the wide stretch of tableland reached the 
eastern edge of the cliff. Now upon the very verge of this 
cliff rose a sharp pinnacle of rock fifty feet or more into 
the air, and upon the top of this pinacle was that stone 
shaped like a great chair, in which Suzanne sat day by day, 
poised like an eagle over the dizzy gulf of space, for the 


292 


slopes of the mountain swelled five hundred feet beneath, 
watching for the help that never came. Not far from the 
base of this point Sihamba began to search in the starlight 
till she found what she wanted, the body of a young woman 
who had crept here to die of thirst, and whose death and 
the place of it had been reported to her. 

Now she took the jar of white clay, and, aided by Zinti, 
set about her ghastly task, daubing the stuff thickly upon 
the cold features and the neck and arms and feet. Soon it 
was done, for such work needed little care, but then began 
their true toil since the corpse must be carried up the sharp 
point of rock, and that by no easy path. (Had not Zinti 
been so strong it could never have been done; still, with 
the aid of Suzanne and Sihamba herself, at last it was 
finished. 

Up that steep place they toiled, the three of them, drag- 
ging the dead body from knot>to knob of rock, well know- 
ing that one false step in the gloom would send them to 
be broken to pieces hundreds of feet beneath. At length 
they reached the little platform where there was scarcely 
room for all of them to stand with their burden, and climb- 
ing on to the stone which was called the Chair, Zinti drew 
the dead woman into the seat of it. 

Then as Sihamba bade him he wrapped her in Suzanne’s 
long white cape of goatskins, putting the hood of it upon 
her head, after which he made the corpse fast in a sitting 
posture, lashing it round the neck and middle to the back 
of the stone with the white tanned rimpis in such fashion 
that it could not fall or even slip. 

“ So,” said Sihamba grimly, “ there sits the bride upon 
wdiom Swart Piet can feast his eyes while you seek safety 
across the mountains. Now back to the town, for from 
this height I can already see light glimmering in the east.” 


293 


Accordingly they returned to the hut and entered it, 
leaving Zinti without, none noting them since by now the 
multitudes were thronging the narrow way. Here Sihamba 
lit the lamp, and by its light once more examined Suzanne 
carefully, retouching the dye in this place and in that, till 
she was sure that no gleam of white showed through it. 

“ It is good,” she said at length; “ unless you betray * 
yourself, your skin will not betray you. And now, lady 
Swallow, the hour has come for us to part, and I rejoice to 
think that some of the debt I owe you I have repaid. Long 
ago I told you that very far away I should live to save you 
as you saved me, and I am sure that I have saved you, 
there is no doubt of it in my heart. Yes, yes, Swallow, I 
see you most happy in the love of husband and of children, 
thinking of all these things as a far-off evil dream, as of a 
dream that never will return. What more do I desire? 
What more have I to ask? 

“ I say that I have repaid to you part of the debt I owe, 
but all of it I can never repay, for, Swallow, you have 
given me love which elsewhere has been denied to me. 
Others have parents and brothers and sisters and husbands 
to love them; I have none of these. I have only you who 
are to me father and mother and sister and lover. 

“ How then can I repay you who have taught this cold 
heart of mine to love, and have deigned to love me in re- 
turn? Oh! and the love will not die; no, no, it will live 
on when all else is dead, for although I am but a Kaffir 
doctoress, at times light shines upon my heart, and in that 
light I see many new things. Yes, yes, I see that this life 
of ours is but a road, a weary road across the winter 
veldt, and this death but the black gate of a garden of 
flowers ” 

“ Oh ! why do you speak thus ? 99 broke in Suzanne. “ Is 


294 


this then our last farewell, and does your wisdom tell you 
that we part to meet no more ? ” 

“ I know not, Swallow,” answered Sihamba hastily, “ hut 
if it should be so I care nothing, for I am sure that through 
all your days you will not forget me, and that when your 
days are done I shall meet you at the foot of the death-bed. 
Nay, you must not weep. Now go swiftly, for it is time, 
and even in your husband’s love be mindful always that a 
woman can love also; yes, though she be but a dwarfed 
Kaffir doctoress. Swallow — Sister Swallow, fare you well,” 
and, throwing herself upon her breast, Sihamba kissed her 
again and again. Then, with a strange strength, she thrust 
her from the hut, calling to Zinti to take charge of her and 
do as she had bidden him, adding that if he failed in this 
task she would blast his body and haunt his spirit. 

Thus parted Sihamba, the Kaffir witch-doctoress, and 
my daughter Suzanne, whom she kept safe for nearly three 
years, and saved at last at the cost of her own life. Yes, 
thus they parted, and for always in the flesh, since it was 
not fated that they should meet again in this world, and 
whether it has been permitted to Sihamba — being a Kaffir, 
and no Christian — to enter a better one is more than I can 
say. In her case, however, I hope that she has found some 
hole to creep through, for although she was a black witch- 
doctoress, according to her knowledge she was a good 
woman and a brave one, as the reader will say also before 
he comes to the end of this story. 

Outside the hut Zinti took Suzanne by the hand and led 
her through the mazes of the town to the open ground that 
lay between it and l\e mouth of the steep cleft which ran 
down to the slopes of the mountain. 


295 


All this space was crowded with people, for as yet they 
could not enter the cleft, which nowhere was more than 
ten feet wide, because it was filled with cattle, some alive 
and some dead, that, drawn by the smell of the water be- 
neath, had gathered as near to it as the stone walls which 
blocked the pass would allow. 

Suzanne and Zinti mingled with this crowd of fugitives, 
taking a position almost in the midst of it, for they did not 
wish to pass out either among the first or the last. There 
they waited a while, none noting them, for in their great 
agony of thirst all thought of themselves and not of their 
neighbours. Indeed, husbands deserted their sick wives 
and mothers their children, which were too heavy to carry; 
yes, they deserted them to be trampled by the feet of men 
and the hoofs of cattle. 

Now, the eastern sky grew grey, and though the sun had 
not yet risen the light was such that a man could see the 
veins upon the back of his hand and the white moons on his 
finger-nails. Presently, as though moved by one impulse, 
thousands of voices uttered a hoarse cry of “It is dawn! 
Open, open! ” 

But it would seem that the wall still stood, for the cattle 
remained packed in so dense a mass that a man could have 
walked upon their backs, as, indeed, some tried to do. 

At last the sun rose, or rather its rays shot upwards across 
the eastern skies like a fan of fire. Suzanne turned her 
head and watched till presently the arrows of light struck 
upon the tall chair rock which was the highest point of all 
the mountain. Yes, there in the chair sat the white figure 
and by its side stood, what seemed to be a black child. It 
was Sihamba. Far below other eyes were watching also, 
the eyes of Swart Piet, for he would not let the people go 
until he knew that Suzanne and Sihamba stayed behind. 


296 


But now he saw them, Suzanne in her accustomed place, 
.and at her side Sihamba. 

“ Pull down the walls,” he shouted to his men, for he 
was eager to clear the pass of cattle and Kaffirs that he 
might go up it, and they obeyed him. Before they were 
more than half down the oxen, pushing and leaping for- 
ward madly, cleared what was left of them and, open- 
mouthed, their lolling tongues hanging from their dry 
jaws, rushed downward to the water, goring or trampling 
to death some of those who worked at the wall. 

“ The schanzes are down,” screamed the people, seeing 
the long line of cattle move, and immediately they began 
to press forward also. 

At Suzanne’s side was a young woman so weak with 
thirst that she could scarcely walk, and on her back a year- 
old boy, insensible but living, for a red froth bubbled from 
his lips. A man thrust this woman to one side and she 
fell; it was that aged councillor who on the yesterday had 
brought news of the surrender to Sihamba. She tried to 
struggle to her feet but others trampled upon her. 

“ Sister, sister! ” she cried, clutching Suzanne by the 
hide blanket which she wore, “ I am dead, but oh! save my 
child.” 

“ Let it be,” whispered Zinti, but Suzanne could not 
deny those piteous eyes, and as she passed she snatched up 
the boy and the sling in w,hich he was carried by the dying 
woman, setting the band of it beneath her own breast. So 
she went forward, bearing him upon her hip, nor did that 
act of mercy lack its reward, for as shall be seen it was her 
salvation. Also the child lived, and to this day is a faith- 
ful servant in our house, though now his beard is white. 

Down the narrow way surged the crowd, scrambling over 
rocks and dead cattle and crushed women and children, 


297 


till at the last Suzanne drew near its opening, where stood 
Swart Piet and some twenty of his followers, watching the 
multitude pass out. 

“ Lady,” whispered Zinti into her ear, “ now I fall be- 
hind, for Bull Head may know me. If I win through I 
will rejoin you on the plain, or by the saw-edged rock; if I 
do not, throw away that child, and follow the road of which 
I have told you, you can scarcely mistake it. Go on, show- 
ing no fear, and — stay, let that blanket hang open in front, 
it is not the custom of these women to wear their garments 
wrapped closely.” 

Suzanne groaned, but she obeyed. 


CHAPTER XXXII 


THE PASS OF THE QUATHLAMBA 

Like wild beasts escaping from a pen, that red-eyed, 
gasping mob rushed and staggered to the edge of the water, 
and, plunging their heads into it with hoarse grunts and 
cries, drank and drank and drank. Indeed, several lost 
their lives there, for some filled themselves so full that 
their vitals were ruptured, and some were thrust into the 
river by the cattle or those pressing behind them, to be 
carried away by the swift stream. 

J ust at the mouth of the pass Suzanne, laden with the 
child, was pushed down by those who followed, and doubt- 
less would have been trampled to death, had not one of 
Swart Piet’s men, desiring to clear the way, or, perhaps, 
moved to pity at her plight, dragged her to her feet again. 
But when he had done this he did not let her go, but held 
her, staring at her beauty with greedy eyes. 

“ Here is a rock-rabbit whom I shall keep for a wife,” he 
cried. “ I would rather take her than twenty fat oxen.” 

How Suzanne’s heart nearly stood still with terror. 

“ Water, water,” she moaned; “let me drink, I pray 
you.” 

“ Do not fear, I will take you to drink, my pretty,” went 
on the man, still staring at her. 

Then, losing command of herself, Suzanne screamed and 
298 


299 


struggled, and the sound of her cries reached the ears of 
Swart Piet, who was standing close at hand. 

“ What is this? ” he asked of the man. 

“ Nothing, Bull Head, except that I have taken a woman 
whom I wish for a wife because she is so fair.” 

Van Vooren let his eyes rest upon her, but dreamily, for 
all his thoughts were given to her who sat aloft five hun- 
dred feet above his head, and, feeling their glance, Su- 
zanne’s blood froze in her veins. 

“ Yes, she is fair,” he answered, “ but she is a married 
woman, and I will have no Umpondwana brats among my 
people. Let her go, and take a girl if you will.” For Van 
Vooren did not wish that the few men who remained with 
him should cumber themselves just then with women and 
children, since they were needed to look after the cattle. 

“ Maid or wife, I choose this one and no other,” said the 
man sulkily. 

Then Black Piet, whose sullen temper could not brook 
to be crossed, broke into a blaze of rage. 

“ Do you dare to disobey me? ” he shouted with an awful 
Kaffir oath. “ Let her go, dog, or I will kill you.” 

At this the man who knew his master, loosed hold of 
Suzanne, who ran away, though it was not until she 
reached the water that she noticed a white ring round her 
arm, where his grip had rubbed the paint off the skin be- 
neath. Strangely enough Van Vooren saw the ring, and 
at that distance mistook it for an ivory ornament such as 
Kaffir women often wear above the elbow. Still more 
strangely its -white colour made him think again of the 
white woman who sat aloft yonder, and he turned his face 
upwards, forgetting all about the black girl with the child. 

Thrusting herself through the crowd, Suzanne ran on 
for a while till she was clear of the worst of it, then terrified 


300 


though she was, she could resist the temptation of the 
water no longer, for her mouth and throat felt dry and 
rough. Climbing down to the edge of the river she drank 
greedily under the shelter of a rock, and when she had 
satisfied some of her thirst, she poured water into the 
mouth of the child, dipping its shrunken little body into 
the stream, whereon it seemed to increase before her eyes 
like a dry sponge that is left out in the rain. 

While she tended the child thus, and just as it began to 
find its senses and to wail feebly, she chanced to look up, 
and to her terror saw that man from whom she had escaped 
walking along the bank searching for her. Happy was it 
for Suzanne that the rock under which she was crouched 
hid her, for the man stood for thirty seconds or more 
within two paces, so that she was obliged to plunge the 
body of the boy under water to stifle its crying. 

Then, as it happened, the Kaffir caught sight of another 
woman and infant, more than a hundred yards away, and 
ran off towards them. Thereon Suzanne, replacing the 
half-choked child upon her hack, climbed the hank, hiding 
the white mark upon her arm beneath the blanket, and 
taking such shelter as she could behind stones or cattle, or 
knots of people who, their thirst appeased, were hastening 
to escape, she slipped across the shoulder of the slope. 

Now she was out of sight of Swart Piet and his men, and 
for the first time for many a day began to breathe freely. 
For a while she crept on round the flank of the mountain, 
then at the best of her speed she struck across the plain 
straight for the saw-edged rock ten miles away, which 
marked the entrance to the pass over the Quathlamba 
range. 

From time to time Suzanne looked behind her, but none 
followed her, nor, search as he would, could she discover 


301 


any trace of Zinti, who, she began to fear, must have come 
to some harm. One thing she conld see, however — the 
whitened corpse set on high in the chair of rock, and by 
the side of it a black dot that she knew to be Sihamba. 
Twice she turned round and gazed at it, but the second 
time the dot had become almost imperceptible, although it 
still was there. Long and earnestly she looked, sending 
her farewell through space to that true friend and deliverer 
whose eyes, as she knew well, watched her flight and whose 
heart went with her. 

Then she travelled on sadly, wondering what was that 
plan of escape of which Sihamba had spoken, and why it 
was that she stood there by the corpse and did not put it 
into practice, wondering also when they should meet again 
and where. A third time she turned, and now the dead 
woman on the rock was but as a tiny point of white, and 
now it had altogether vanished away. 

After this Suzanne halted no more, but pressed on stead- 
ily towards the saw-edged spur, which she reached about 
twelve o’clock, for the grass was so tall, the untrodden 
veldt so rough, and the sun so hot that, weak as she felt 
with grief and the effects of thirst, and laden with a heavy 
child, her progress was very slow. At length, however, 
she stood gasping in its shadow, gazing dismayed at the 
huge range of mountains before her and the steep rough 
cliffs up which she must climb. 

“ Never shall I cross them without food and weighted 
with this child, so the end of it will be that I must die 
after all,” thought Suzanne as she sank down by the banks 
of a little rivulet, resting her swollen feet in its cool stream, 
for then, and indeed for weeks after, it seemed to her that 
she could never have enough of the taste and smell and feel 
of water. 


302 


As she sat thus, striving to still the wailing of the 
hungry hoy, suddenly the shadow of a man fell upon her. 
With a cry she sprang to her feet to find herself face to 
face with Zinti. 

“ Oh! I thought that they had taken you,” she ex- 
claimed. 

“ No, lady, I escaped, but I crossed the plain far to your 
left, for it seemed better that we should not he seen travel- 
ling together from the mountain. Now let us eat who 
have eaten little for so many days, lacking water to wash 
down the food,” and from the large skin wallet which he 
bore Zinti drew out dried flesh and roasted corn. 

Suzanne looked at the food with longing, hut before she 
touched any she took some corn, and having pounded it 
into a pulp with a stone, mixed it with water and fed the 
child, who devoured the stuff greedily and presently fell 
asleep. Then they ate as much as they wanted, since Zinti 
carried enough for three such meals, and never did Suzanne 
take meat with a greater relish. Afterwards, though she 
yearned to sleep, they pressed on again, for Zinti said it 
was not safe to stay, since long before this Van Vooren 
would be seeking her far and wide, and if he chanced to 
discover the secret of her flight he would travel further in 
one hour on horseback than they could in four on foot. 
So they went forward up the pass much refreshed, Zinti 
carrying the child. . 

All day long they walked thus, resting at intervals, till 
by sunset they reached the crest of the pass, and saw the 
wide plains of Natal stretched out like a map beneath them, 
and on them, not so very far away and near to the banks 
of the river that wound at their feet, a white-topped kop- 
pie, beneath which, said Zinti, was the Boer camp. 

Suzanne sat down and looked, and there, yes, there the 


303 


caps of the waggons gleamed in the fading light; and oh! 
her heart leapt at the sight of them, for in those waggons 
were white men and women such as she had not seen for 
years, and with whom at length she would he safe. But 
even as her breast heaved at the thought of it, an icy, un- 
natural wind seemed to stir her hair, and of a sudden she 
felt, or seemed to feel, the presence of Sihamba. For a 
moment, and one only, it was with her, then it was gone, 
nor during all her life did it ever come back again. 

“Oh! Sihamba is dead! ” she cried. 

Zinti looked at her in question. 

“ It may well be so,” he said sadly, “ but I pray that it 
is not so, for she is the best of chieftainesses. At least we 
have our own lives to save, so let us go on,” and again they 
pressed forward through the gathering gloom. 

Soon it grew dark, and had her guide been any other 
man than Zinti Suzanne must have stopped where she was 
till the moon rose at midnight. But Zinti could find 
any path that his feet had trod even in the dark; yes, al- 
though it ran through piled-up rocks on the mountain side, 
and was cut with the course of streams which must be 
forded. 

In wading through one of these rivulets, Suzanne struck 
her bare ankle against a stone and lamed herself, so that 
from this time forward, shivering and wet with water, for 
her hurt was so sharp and sudden that she had fallen in 
the stream, she was forced to walk leaning on Zinti’s 
shoulder, and indeed over some rough places he was obliged 
to carry her. Now again Zinti wished to abandon that 
heavy child, for strong though he was the weight of the 
two of them proved almost more than he could bear, but 
Suzanne would not listen to him. 

“ Nay,” she said, “ this child that was sent to me by 


304 


Heaven has saved me from shame and death, and shame 
and death be my portion if I will leave it while I live. Go 
on alone if you will, Zinti, and I will stav here with the 
child.” 

“ Truly white people are strange,” answered Zinti, “ that 
they should wish to burden themselves with the child of 
another when their own lives are at stake, but be it as you 
will, lady,” and he struggled forward as best he could, 
carrying the one and supporting the other. 

Thus for hour after hour, slowly they crept onward with 
only the stars to light and guide them, till at length about 
midnight the moon rose and they saw that they were near 
the foot of the mountain. Now they rested awhile, but 
not long enough to grow stiff, then hastening down the 
slope they reached the plain, and headed for the white- 
topped koppie which shone in the moonlight some six miles 
away. On they crept, Suzanne now limping painfully, for 
her ankle had begun to swell, and now crawling upon her 
hands and knees, for Zinti had no longer the strength to 
carry her and the child. Thus they covered three miles 
in perhaps as many hours. At last, with something like 
a sob, Suzanne sank to the earth. 

“ Zinti, I can walk no more,” she said. “ Either I 
must rest or die.” 

He looked at her and saw that she spoke truth, for she 
was quite outworn. 

“ Is it so ? ” he said, “ then we must stay here till the 
morning, nor do I think that you will take hurt, for Bull 
Head will scarcely care to cross that pass by night.” 

Suzanne shook her head and answered: 

“ He will have begun to climb it at the rising of the 
moon. Hear me, Zinti. The Boer camp is close and you 
still have some strength left; take the child and go to it. 


805 


and having gained an entrance in this way or in that tell 
them my plight and they will ride ont and save me.” 

“ That is a goood thought,” he said; “ hut, lady, I do 
not like to leave you alone, since here there is no place for 
you to hide.” 

“ You could not help me if you stayed, Zinti, therefore go, 
for the sooner you are gone, the sooner I shall he rescued.” 

“ I hear your command, lady,” he answered, and having 
given her most of the food that was left, he fastened the 
sleeping child upon his shoulder and walked forward up 
the rise. 

In something less than an hour Zinti came to the camp, 
which was formed of unlaagered waggons and tents pitched 
at the foot of a koppie, along one base of which ran the 
river. About fifty yards in front of the camp stood a 
single buck waggon, and near to it still glowed the embers 
of a cooking-fire. 

“ Now if I try to pass that waggon those who watch by 
it will shoot at me,” thought Zinti, though, indeed, he 
need have had no fear, for they were hut camp-Kaffirs who 
slept soundly. 

Not knowing this, however, he stood at a distance and 
called aloud, till at last a Hottentot crept out with a gun 
and, throwing hack the blanket from his head, asked who 
he was and what he wanted. 

“ I want to see the Baas of the camp,” he answered, “ for 
my mistress, a white woman, lies exhausted upon the veldt 
not far away and seeks his help.” 

“ If you want to see the Baas,” yawned the man, “ you 
must wait till daylight when he wakes up.” 

“ I cannot wait,” answered Zinti, and he made as though 
to pass towards the camp, whereupon the man raised his 
gun and covered him, saying: 


306 


“ If you go on I will slioot you, for stray Kaffir dogs 
are not allowed to prowl about the camp at night.” 

“ What then must I do ? ” asked Zinti. 

“ You can go away, or if you will you may sit by the 
waggon here till it is light, and then when the Boers, my 
masters, wake up you can tell your story, of which I believe 
nothing.” 

So, having no choice, Zinti sat down by the waggon and 
waited, while the man with the gun watched him, pretend- 
ing to be asleep all the while. 

Now Suzanne was left alone upon the great veldt, and 
fear took hold of her, for she was broken in body and mind, 
and the place was very desolate; also she dreaded lest lions 
should take her, for she could hear them roaring in the 
distance, or Swart Piet, who was worse than any lion. Still 
she was so weary that after washing her face and hands in 
a spring close by, presently she fell asleep. When she 
.awoke the east was tinged with the first grey light of the 
coming dawn, and it seemed to her as though some cold 
hand of fear had gripped her heart of a sudden and aroused 
her from heavy sleep. A sound caused her to look up, and 
there on the crest of the rise before her, some three hun- 
dred yards away, she saw dark forms moving, and caught 
sight of spears that glimmered in the moonlight. 

“Kow there is an end,” thought Suzanne to herself, 
“ for without doubt yonder stands a Zulu impi; the same 
that attacked the Ilmpondwana, for I can see the crane’s 
feathers in their head-dresses,” and she crouched upon the 
ground in an extremity of dread. 


CHAPTER XXXIII 


RALPH FINDS THE DREAM MOUNTAIN 

Now I must go back to that evening when we learned 
the great tidings from the lips of the lad Gaasha, whose 
life Ralph had saved after the attack by the Kaffirs upon 
the laager. There sat Gaasha on the ground staring, and 
there, not far away, Ralph was lying in his swoon, while 
Jan and I looked at each other like people who have sud- 
denly beheld a sign from heaven. 

“ What evil magic is there in my words,” said Gaasha 
presently, “ that they should strike the Baas yonder dead 
like a spear? ” 

“ He is not dead,” I answered, “ but for long he has 
sought that mountain TTmpondwana of which you speak. 
Tell us now, did you hear of any white woman dwelling 
with the chieftainess Sihamba?” 

“ No, lady, I heard of none.” 

This answer of Gaasha’s saddened me, for I made sure 
that if so strange a thing had happened as that a white 
woman had come to live among his tribe, the man who told 
him of the return of Sihamba, would have told him of 
this also. Therefore, so I argued, either Suzanne was dead 
or she was in the power of Piet Van Vooren, or Sihamba 
had deserted her, though this last I did not believe. As 
it turned out afterwards, had not Gaasha been the stupidest 

307 


308 


of Kaffirs, we should have been saved those long days of 
doubt and trouble, for though he had not heard that Si- 
hamba was accompanied by a white woman, he had heard 
that she brought with her a white bird to the Mountain 
Kmpondwana. Of course if he had told ns this we should 
have guessed that the white bird could be none other than 
Suzanne, whose native name was Swallow. 

Well, we set about reviving Ralph, which was done by 
throwing water on to his face. When he had found his 
senses again I prayed him not to suffer himself to be 
carried away with hope, since although Gaasha had heard 
of Sihamba, he had heard nothing of Suzanne. 

To this he answered that now when God had pointed 
out to him the mountain of his vision and in so strange a 
manner, he had no fear but that he would find his wife 
upon it, since God was merciful and did not desire to mock 
or torment His servants. 

I replied that I trusted it might be so, but the ways of 
the Almighty were beyond our understanding, nor did it 
become us to pass judgment upon them. Ralph scarcely 
heeded my words, but, springing to his feet, said: 

“ Come, let us be going to the mountain Umpondwana.” 

“First we must consult with the commandant and get 
aid from him,” said Jan, “ for it would not be safe that we 
should wander into these wild places alone, where there 
are many Kaffirs who doubtless would murder us.” 

In his eagerness Ralph would not listen to this, for he 
desired to start at once. But I pointed out to him that we 
had no horses, all ours being dead of the sickness; more- 
over, that the night was dark, and we could not trek till 
the moon rose, so at length he consented. Then we went 
into the laager, and Jan called the older men together in 
a quiet place. 


309 


“What is it, Heer Botmar?” asked the commandant 
when they were assembled. 

“ It is this, cousin/’ said Jan. “ I desire to ask you to 
go a three days’ trek out of your march to a mountain 
called Umpondwana, whither this servant of mine, Gaasha, 
can guide you.” 

“ For what reason? ” asked the commandant astonished. 

“ Friend,” said Jan, “ you have all of you heard the 
story of how that outcast devil Piet Van Yooren, stole away 
my only child, Suzanne, the wife of Ralph Kenzie the 
Englishman here. 

“ That is an old tale,” said the commandant, “ and, 
doubtless, the poor girl is dead long ago; why then do you 
speak of it now, and what has it to do with your request 
that we should trek to the mountain Umpondwana?” 

“ Only this, cousin; we think that my daughter Suzanne 
is living there among the Kaffirs, and we seek to rescue 
her. At least this is certain, for only now we have learnt 
it from the lips of Gaasha that Sihamha, her friend and 
servant whom we believe was with her, rules over this 
tribe as chief tainess.” 

“ That may he so,” said the commandant, “ hut did 
Gaasha tell you that your daughter was there also?” 

“ No,” answered Jan. 

“ Then how do you know it? ” 

Now Jan hesitated and turned red as he replied: 

“ We know it because Ralph Kenzie here saw this very 
mountain in a vision more than two years ago, and in 
that vision was told that there he would find the wife who 
was taken from him on his marriage day.” 

Now, on hearing this most of the Boers broke out laugh- 
ing, for, though very religious, we are not a people who 
place faith in visions. Thereupon I grew angry, and spoke 


310 


to them more strongly, perhaps, than I should have done, 
reducing them to silence, for they were all of them a little 
afraid of my tongue. Also I told them the story of that 
dream of Ralph’s, and of what had just passed with Gaasha, 
showing them that there was more in it than they imagined. 
After I had done Ralph spoke also, saying: 

“ Friends, doubtless this tale sounds foolish in your ears; 
but I ask what has been my nickname among you? Has it 
not been e Man of the Mountain/ because I have always 
spoken and inquired for a certain mountain which had 
ridges on it shaped like the fingers of a man’s hand, and 
have you not thought me mad for this reason? How I 
have heard of such a mountain and I have heard also that 
Sihamba, who was with my wife, rules there as chieftainess. 
Is it strange, therefore, that I, believing now as ever in that 
vision, should wish to visit this mountain where, as I am 
sure, I shall find the wife that is lost to me? 99 

After this the Boers laughed no more but consulted 
apart till at last the elder, Heer Celliers, spoke. 

“ Heeren Botmar and Kenzie,” he said, “ of all this 
story of a vision we can say little. For aught we know it 
may be true, but if true theh it is the work of magic and we 
will have nothing to do with it. Should you wish to go to 
seek this Mountain ITmpondwana you must go alone, for 
we cannot alter our plans to trek there with you. But we 
counsel you not to go, since no good can come of visions 
and magic.” 

When I heard this I answered him back, but Jan and 
Ralph went away, and presently I found them talking 
together outside the laager. 

^ Let me go alone,” Ralph was saying. 

“ Hay,” J an answered, “ I will accompany you, for 
two are better than one; also I shall not sleep till I 


311 


find out the truth and know whether Suzanne lives or is 
dead.” 

“ Indeed! and what is to become of me? ” I -asked. 

“ You, vrouw, can stop with the neighbours here, and we 
will join you in Natal.” 

“You will do no such thing, Jan Botmar,” I answered, 
“ for where j^ou two go there I can go. What! Am I not 
sick also with love for my daughter and anxious to learn 
her fate? ” 

“ As you will, wife,” answered Jan; “ perhaps it is well 
that we three should not separate who have been together 
always,” and he went to see about the waggon. 

As soon as the moon rose, which was about eleven 
o’clock, the oxen were inspanned. Before we started, 
however, several of our friends came praying us not to 
venture on so perilous a journey; indeed, they threatened 
even to use force to prevent us, and I think would have 
done so had not Jan told them outright that we were our 
own masters and free to go where we wished. So they 
departed, grieving over our obstinacy, and little guessing 
that their danger was far greater than our own, since as it 
chanced just as they had trekked through the Van Reenen’s 
Pass a few days later a Zulu impi, returning from the 
Weenen massacres fell upon them unawares and killed 
more than half of their number before they were beaten off. 

So we trekked with the moon, Gaasha guiding us, and 
did not outspan till dawn. As I have said, we had no 
horses, but never until I made that journey did it come 
home to me how slow are oxen, for never before then was I 
in a hurry, nor, indeed, have I been since that time. It is the 
Englishmen who are always in a hurry, and that is one of 
the reasons why we Boers are so superior to them, and 
when we choose can master them in everything, except 


312 


shopkeeping, and especially in fighting. Well, at the 
best the cattle could not drag the waggon over the roadless 
veldt at a greater rate than two miles an hour, or cover 
more than twenty miles a day in all. It was pitiful to see 
Ralph’s impatience; again and again he walked on and 
returned; indeed, had we allowed it, I think that he would 
have pressed forward on foot, leaving us to follow in the 
waggon. 

At daylight on the third day we inspanned as usual, and 
trekked through the morning mists until the sun sucked 
them up. Then Gaasha, who was sitting on the waggon- 
box beside Ralph, touched his shoulder, and pointed before 
him. Ralph looked, and far away upon the plain saw 
what seemed to be a white cloud, above which towered the 
flat cliffs of a mountain of red rock. 

“ See, Baas,” he said, “ yonder is IJmpondwana, my 
home, and now by nightfall I shall know whether my 
parents are still alive, or, if they are dead, whether they 
have left any cattle that I can claim by law,” and he began 
to whistle cheerfully. 

“ And I,” said Ralph aloud, “ shall know whether my 
life is to be a heaven or a hell,” and all day long, neither 
eating nor drinking, he sat upon the waggon-box and 
stared at the mountain, not lifting his eyes from it. 

It was about one o’clock in the afternoon when we 
seemed to be quite close to the green flanks of IJmpond- 
wana, that of a sudden we cut a wide spoor trampled by 
thousands of naked feet. Jan and Gaasha got off the wag- 
gon to examine it, but Ralph did not move. 

“ An impi has passed here,” said Jan presently. 

“ Yes, and a Zulu impi as I think, Baas, but more than 
one whole day ago,” and Gaasha began to hunt about 


313 


amongst some low bushes which grew near the trail. Pres- 
ently he held up his hand and shouted, and Jan ran to him. 

“ Look, Baas,” he said, pointing to a bush. 

Jan looked, and there beneath the bush lay a man, a 
Zulu soldier, for his tall grey plume was still fixed upon 
his head, and near him was his broad assegai. At that 
moment the man, who was still alive, although he was very 
near his death from dysentery, seemed to hear, for he sat 
up and opened his eyes, saying, “Manzie, umlungho, 
manzie ” (Water, white man, water.) 

“ Bring a pannikin of water, here lies a sick Kaffir,” 
shouted Jan to Ralph, who was still seated on the waggon- 
box staring at the mountain. 

Ralph brought the water, and the soldier drank it 
greedily. 

“ Who are you, and how come you here? ” asked Jan. 

“ I am a soldier of Dingaan,” answered the man, “ but 
when we were attacking the little people on that mountain 
I fell sick. Still I came away with the impi, but here my 
strength failed me, and here I have lain for a round of the 
sun and a round of the moon. I begged them to kill me, 
but my brothers would not, for they said that I might 
recover and join them.” 

“ Where have they gone? ” asked Jan. 

“ They have gone to eat up the Boers in Natal,” the 
Zulu answered in a hollow voice, his empty eyes wandering 
towards the mountains of the Quathlamba range. “ Yes, 
they have gone to do the King’s bidding on the white men, 
for his word came to us while we besieged yonder strong- 
hold. To-morrow at the dawn they attack the little laager 
beneath the white koppie by the banks of the Tugela, and 
I must reach them by then — yes, yes, now I am strong 
again, and I shall attack with them to-morrow at the dawn. 


314 


Farewell, white men, I will itot kill yon because you gave 
me the water which has made me strong again,” and, rising 
from the ground, he grasped his spear and started forward 
at a run. 

“ Stay,” cried Ralph. “ I would question you as to 
what has happened on that mountain; ” hut the man did 
not seem to hear him. For thirty paces or so he ran on, 
then suddenly he halted and saluted with his spear, crying 
in a loud voice: 

“ Chief, I report myself, I am present.” 

Next he stretched his arms wide and fell forward upon 
his face. When they reached him he was quite dead. 

“ This is a strange story that we have heard about the 
Zulus and the folk in Natal,” said Jan, rubbing his fore- 
head. 

“ I think that the man was wandering in his mind,” 
answered Ralph, “ still there may he truth in it; hut, 
father,” he added, with a gasp of fear, and, catching Jan 
by the arm, “ what has happened on the mountain TJm- 
pondwana? The Zulus have been there, and — what has 
happened on the mountain? ” 

Jan shook his head, hut did not answer, for he knew 
too well what happens where the Zulu impis pass. 

Notwithstanding that Ralph was mad with impatience 
we halted the waggon for a few minutes to take counsel, 
and in the end decided to send the voorlooper hack to the 
camp which we had left to warn our friends of what we 
had learned as to the onslaught on our brethren in Natal, 
though we had small faith in the story. But either the 
lad ran away, or some accident befell him, or he failed 
to find the Boers who had already trekked; at the least our 
message never reached them, nor did we see him again. 
Then we went on, Gaasha leading the oxen as quickly as 


315 


they could walk. All that afternoon we travelled almost 
in silence, following the spoor of the impi backwards, for 
our hearts were full of fear. We met no man, but once or 
twice we saw groups of cattle wandering unherded, and 
this astonished us, giving us hope, for it is not the custom 
of a victorious impi to. leave the cattle of its enemy behind 
it, though if the people of the Umpondwana had con- 
quered, it was strange that we should see no herds with the 
beasts. 

At length, within two hours of sunset, we passed round 
the shoulder of the mountain and beheld its eastern slope. 

“ It is the very place of my vision,” cried Ealph, and 
certainly there before us were the stone ridges shaped like 
the thumb and fingers of a man, while between the thumb 
and first finger gushed the river, upon the banks of which 
grew flat-topped green-leaved trees. 

“ Onward, onward! ” he cried again, and, taking the 
long waggon whip, he thrashed the oxen till they bellowed 
in the yokes. But I, who was seated beneath the tent of 
the waggon, turned to look behind me, and in the far 
distance saw that men were driving herds of cattle towards 
the mountains. 

“ We are too late,” I thought in my heart, “ for, without 
doubt, whether it be the Zulus or others, the place has been 
taken, since yonder go the victors with the cattle. Now 
they will fall upon us and kill us. Well, should God will 
it, so let it be, for if Suzanne is dead indeed I care little if 
we die also; and to Ralph at least death will be welcome, 
for I think that then death alone can save him from 
madness.” 

Now we had reached the banks of the river, and were 
trekking up them towards the spot where it issued from 
the side of the mountain. Everywhere was spoor, but we 


316 


saw no people, although here and there the vultures were 
hissing and quarrelling over the hones of a man or a beast. 

“ There has been war in this place,” whispered J an, 
“ and now the peace of death has fallen upon it,” but 
Ealph only flogged the weary oxen, saying nothing. 

At length they could drag the waggon no further, for 
the path grew too steep for them, whereupon Ealph, seizing 
the first weapon that came to hand, which, as it chanced, 
was the broad assegai that Gaasha had taken that day from 
the side of the dead Zulu, ran forward up the trail followed 
by Jan and myself. Another two hundred yards and the 
path took a turn which led to the entrance of the first 
scherm, the same that the Zulus had captured by forcing 
the passage of the river. The gateway was open now, and 
Ealph entered. 

At first he could see no one, but presently he heard a 
voice saying: 

“ Will you not tell, for death is very near you? Drink, 
witch, tell and drink.” 

“ Fool,” answered another voice, a grating, broken voice, 
“ I say that death is near to both of us, and since she is 
saved I die gladly, taking my secret with me.” 

“ Then, witch, I will try steel,” said the first voice. 

Now Ealph looked over the rock from behind which the 
sound of voices came and saw the body of a little woman 
tied to a stone by the edge of the water, while over her 
leant a man, a white man, holding a knife in one hand 
and in the other a gourd of water, which he now placed 
close to her lips, and now withdrew from them. He knew 
that woman, it was Sihamba. Just at this moment the 
man looked up and their eyes met, and he knew Ealph also. 

It was Piet Van Yooren. 


CHAPTER XXXIV 


THE AVENGER OF BLOOD 

For a moment the two men stood looking at each other, 
yes, the sheclder of blood and the avenger of blood stood 
quite still and silent, and looked each other in the eyes, as 
though a spell had fallen upon them striking them into 
stone. It was the voice of Sihamba that broke the spell, 
and it issued from her parched throat with a sound like 
the sound of a death-rattle. 

“Ah! devil and torturer/’ it said, “did I not tell you 
that doom was at hand? Welcome, Ralph Kenzie, husband 
of Swallow.” 

Then with a roar like that of a wounded beast, Ralph 
sprang forward, in his hand the uplifted spear. For one 
instant Swart Piet hesitated, hut at the words of Sihamba 
a sudden terror had taken hold of him and he dared not 
wait. Like a startled buck he turned and fled up the 
mountain, but as he passed her he struck downwards with 
a knife he held, stabbing Sihamba in the body. 

Once also he looked round for help, hut there was none, 
for during the long torment of Sihamba all the black 
villains who served him had slipped away, fearing lest 
others should secure their share of the stolen cattle. Then 
he sped on up the pass and never did a man run more 
swiftly. But after him came one who was swifter than he, 

317 


318 


the light-footed, long-limbed Englishman with rage in his 
heart, and an awful fire of vengeance blazing in his eyes. 

Up the pass they ran, leaping over stones and dead cattle 
till at length they reached the tableland at the top. Here 
once again Van Yooren paused for an instant, for he be- 
thought him that, perhaps, he might hold the mouth of 
the cleft against his pursuer, but his wicked heart was too 
full of fear to let him stay, so at full speed he set forward 
across the plain, heading for that chair rock where still sat 
the whitened corpse, for there he thought he could defend 
himself. Ralph followed him somewhat more slowly, for 
of a sudden he had grown cold and cunning, and, knowing 
that his foe could not escape him, he desired to save his 
breath for the last struggle. 

For six hundred yards or more they ran thus, and when 
Van Yooren began to climb the pedestal of rock Ralph 
was fifty paces behind him. Presently he also reached the 
pedestal and paused to look. Already Swart Piet was 
standing by the stone chair, but it was not at him that he 
looked, but rather at the figure which was tied in the 
chair that he now saw for the first time. That figure no 
longer sat upright, draped in its white fur cloak, for it 
had been disturbed, as I shall tell presently, and the cloak 
was half torn from it. Now it hung over the arm of the 
chair, the ghastly white face looking down towards Ralph 
and beneath it the bare black breast. 

Ralph stared, wondering what this might mean. Then 
the answer to the riddle flashed into his mind, and he 
laughed aloud, for here he saw the handiwork of Sihamba. 
Yes, that grisly shape told him that his love still lived and 
that it was to win the secret of her whereabouts that the 
devil above him had practised torment upon the little 
doctoress. 


319 


Ealph laughed aloud and began to climb the pinnacle. 
He might have waited till Jan, who was struggling up the 
pass after them, arrived with his gun, but he would not 
wait. He had no fear of the man above and he was certain 
of the issue of the fray, for he knew that God is just. As 
for that man above, he grinned and gibbered in his dis- 
appointed rage and the agony of his dread; yes, he stood 
there by the painted corpse and gibbered like an ape. 

“ Your evil doing has not prospered over much, Piet 
Van Vooren,” called Ealph, “ and presently when you are 
dead you will taste the fruits of it. Suzanne shall be mine 
till the end as she was mine from the beginning, but look 
upon the Death-wife that your wickedness has won,” and 
he pointed at the body with his spear. 

Black Piet made no answer, nor did Ealph speak any 
more, for he must set himself to finish his task. The Boer 
took a heavy stone and threw it at him, but it missed him 
and he could find no more. Then gripping the wrist of 
the corpse in his left hand to steady himself upon that 
giddy place, he leant forward and prepared to stab Ealph 
with the knife as he set foot upon the platform. Ealph 
saw his plan, and stopping in his climb, he took off his coat 
and wound it round his left arm as a shield. Then he 
came on slowly, holding the broad spear in front of him. 
At the last he made a rush an^ reached the flat space of 
rock. Piet stabbed at him, hut the strength of the thrust 
lost itself in the folds of the coat. 

Yow who can say what happened. Pound and round 
the rock chair they swung, Van Vooren still holding fast 
to the arm of the dead woman who was lashed in it. Yes, 
even from where I stood five hundred feet below I could 
see the flash of spear and knife as they struck and struck 
again. 


320 


At length a blow went home; the Zulu assegai sank deep 
into Van Yooren’s chest and he hnng backwards over the 
edge of the abyss, supported only by his grip of the dead 
arm — from below it looked as though he were drawing 
the corpse to him against its will. Yes, he hung back and 
groaned aloud. Ralph looked at him and laughed again, 
since though he was gentle-hearted, for this man he had 
no pity. He laughed, and crying “ That curse of God you 
mocked at falls at last,” with a sudden stroke he drew the 
sharp edge of the spear across the lashing that held the 
body to the seat. 

The rimpi parted, and with a swift and awful rush, like 
that of a swooping bird, the dead woman and the living 
man plunged headlong into space. One dreadful yell 
echoed down the pitiless precipices, followed presently by 
a soft thudding sound, and there, lodged upon a flat rock 
hundreds of feet beneath, lay what had been Piet Yan 
Yooren, though, indeed, none could have told that it 
was he. 

Thus ended the life of this man, this servant of the devil 
upon earth, and even now, after all these years I can find 
but one excuse for him, that the excess of his own wicked- 
ness had made him drunk and mad. Yes, I believe that he 
who was always near to it, went quite mad when Ralph 
struck him with the whip after the fight by the sheep kraal, 
mad with hate of Ralph and love of Suzanne. Also his 
father was wicked before him, and he had Kaffir blood in 
his veins. Ah! for how much must our blood be called 
upon to answer, and how good is that man who can conquer 
the natural promptings of his blood! 

Jan and I were following Ralph when he entered the 
river scherm, and reached it just in time to see pursued 


321 


and pursuer vanishing up the narrow cleft. I caught sight 
of Van Yooren’s hack only, hut although I had not seen 
him for years, I knew it at once. 

“We have found the tiger at home,” I said, “ yonder 
goes Swart Piet.” 

“ Allemachter! it is so,” answered Jan. “ Look, there 
lies the tiger’s prey,” and pointing to Sihamha he followed 
them up the mountain side as fast as his weight would 
allow, for in those days J an was a very heavy man. 

Meanwhile I made my way to the little figure that was 
stretched upon the rock at the edge of the river. She had 
fainted, but even before I reached her I saw her small 
size and the strange hoop of stiff hair that she wore about 
her head, that it was none other than Sihamba, Sihamba 
whom I had last seen upon the eve of that unlucky mar- 
riage day. 

But oh! she was sadly changed. One of her legs, I 
forget which, had been broken by a gunshot; the blood 
trickled from the wound where Van Yooren had stabbed 
her in the back; her little body was wasted by the want of 
water, and her face had shrunk to the size of that of a 
small child, although strangely enough it still was pretty. 
I knelt down by her, and placing my hand upon her heart 
felt that it still beat, though very slowly. Then I took 
water and sprinkled it upon her, and at the touch of it she 
opened her eyes at once. 

“ Give me to drink,” she moaned, and I did so, pouring 
the water down her throat, which was ridged and black 
like a dog’s palate. Her eyes opened and she knew me. 

“ Greeting, mother of Swallow,” she said, “ you come in 
a good hour, for now I shall be able to tell you all before 
I die, and I am glad that I was strong enough to endure 
the torment of thirst for so many hours.” 


822 


“ Tell me one thing, Sihamba,” 1 said. “ Does Suzanne 
live, and is she safe ? ” 

“ Yes, she lives, and I hope that this night she will be 
safe with your own people, the Boers, for she has crossed 
the mountains to seek shelter in that laager which is by the 
white-topped koppie near the banks of the Tugela in 
Natal” 

“ The laager by the white-topped koppie ” I gasped. 

“ Oh, my God! that must be the camp which the Zulus 
attack to-morrow at the dawn.” 

“ What do you say? ” Sihamba asked. 

In a few words I told her the tale that we had heard 
from the dying soldier, and she listened eagerly. 

“ I fear it must be true,” she said, when I had finished, 
“ for while he was tormenting me Bull Head let it fall that 
Dingaan’s regiments had gone hence by order of the King 
to make war upon the Boers in Natal, but I took little 
heed, thinking that he lied. 

“ Well,” she went on after resting a while, “ they may be 
beaten off, or — stay, in the glade yonder is the great schim- 
mel horse; Bull Head’s people brought him down for him 
and I know that hours ago he has been well fed and 
watered. If her husband mounts him at sunset, he can 
be with the Swallow in the laager well before the dawn, 
in time to warn them all. Presently, when he returns from 
killing Bull Head, I will show him the road, for I shall 
live till sunset. Give me more water, I pray you.” 

Now I saw that nothing could be done till Ralph and 
Jan returned, if they ever should return, so I prayed of 
Sihamba to tell me what had passed, for I saw that she 
could not live long, and desired to know the truth before 
she died. And she told me, with many rests and at no 
great length indeed but very clearly, and as I listened I 


323 


marvelled more and more at this Kaffir woman’s love, 
faithfulness, and courage. At last she came to the tale of 
how she had disguised Suzanne, and set up the corpse in 
her place in the chair of rock. 

“ Step but a few paces there to the right,” she said, “ and 
you will see it.” 

I did as she bade me, and then it was that on looking 
upwards I saw Ralph and Swart Piet struggling together. 
They w r ere so high above me that their shapes seemed small, 
but I could see the light flashing from the stabbing steel 
and I called out to Sihamba what I saw. 

“ Have no fear, lady,” she answered, “ it will only end 
one way.” So indeed it did end as has been told, for 
presently Van Vooren and the corpse rushed downwards 
to vanish in the abyss, while Ralph remained standing by 
the empty chair of stone. 

“ It is finished,” I said, returning to Sihamba. 

“ I know it, lady,” she answered. “ Bull Head’s last cry 
reached my ears, and do you give thanks to the Spirit you 
worship that he is dead. You wished to know what hap- 
pened after the Swallow and I parted. Well, I went and 
stood by the body on the pinnacle of rock, and there, as I 
expected, came Bull Head to seek his captive. He com- 
manded us to come down, but I refused, telling him that 
if he attempted to take the Swallow — for he thought that 
the body wrapped in the white cloak was she — she would 
certainly escape him by hurling herself from the cliff. 
Thus I gained much time, for now from my height I could 
see her whom I knew to be the lady Swallow travelling 
across the plain towards the saw-edge rock, although I was 
puzzled because she seemed to carry a child upon her back; 
but perhaps it was a bundle. 

“ At last he grew impatient, and without warning lifted 


324 


his gun and fired at me, aiming low, for he feared lest the 
hall should pierce my mistress. The shot struck my leg 
where you see, and being unable to stop myself, although I 
broke my fall by clutching with my hands, I rolled down 
the rock to the ground beneath, hut not over the edge of 
the precipice as I could have wished to do, for at the last 
I had intended to escape him by throwing myself from it. 

“ Leaving me unable to move he began to ascend the 
pinnacle, calling your daughter Swallow by sweet names 
as a man calls a shy horse which he fears will escape him. 
I watched from below, and even in my pain I laughed, for 
now I knew what must come. Since the Swallow did not 
answer, Bull Head, wishing to be cunning, crept behind 
her in silence, and of a sudden seized the cloak and the 
arm beneath it, for he feared lest she should choose death 
and cheat him. 

“ Then it was that the body rolled over towards him; 
then it was he saw the whitened face and the black breast 
beneath. Ah! lady, you should have heard his oaths and 
bis yell of rage as he scrambled down the rock towards 
me. 

“ ‘ What think you of your bride ? ? I asked him as he 
came, for I knew that I must die and did not care how 
soon. 

“ ‘ This is your trick, witch/ he gasped, ‘ and now I will 
kill you/ 

“ ‘ Kill on, butcher/ I answered, ‘ at least I shall die 
happy, having beaten you at last/ 

“ ‘ No, not yet/ he said presently, ‘ for if you grow silent, 
how shall I learn where you have hidden Suzanne Botmar?* 

“ ‘ Suzanne Kenzie, wife of the Englishman, butcher/ I 
answered again. 

“ ‘ Also/ he went on, grinding his teeth, ‘ I desire that 


325 


yon should die slowly.’ Then he called some of his men, 
and they carried me in a kaross to this place. Here by the 
river he lashed me to the stone, and, knowing that already 
I was in the agonies of thirst, he tormented me by holding 
water to my lips and snatching it away. 

“ All day long, lying in the burning sun, have I suffered 
thus, waiting for death to heal my pain. But in vain did 
he torture and question, for not one word could he wring 
from my lips as to where he should seek for the lady Swal- 
low. He thought that she was hidden somewhere on the 
mountain, and sent men to search for her till they grew 
tired and ran away to steal the cattle; he never guessed 
that disguised as a black woman she had passed beneath 
his very eyes. 

“ Yet this was so, for I, Sihamha, know it from the talk 
I overheard between Bull Head and one of his servants, 
who had held her awhile wishing to take her for a wife.* 
Yes, she passed beneath his eyes and escaped him, and 1 — I 
have won the game.” 

How the effects of the water, which for a little while 
had given new life to Sihamha, began to pass off, and she 
grew weak and silent. Presently I saw Ralph returning 
down the steep cleft, and with him Jan, and went to meet 
them. 

“It is finished,” Ralph said, looking at me with quiet eyes. 

“ I know it,” I answered, “ but, son, there is still work 

to do if you would save your wife ,” and I told him 

what I had learned. 

* In after days, when there was talk far and wide of the wonderful 
escape of my daughter Suzanne, disguised as a Kaffir woman, the man 
who had sought to take her captive told the story of the white mark 
which his grip left upon her arm. He said, indeed, that both he and 
Bull-Head saw the mark when she was at a little distance from them, 
but believing it to be an ivory ring they took no heed. 


826 


“ The schimmel,” he exclaimed, growing pale to the lips, 
u where is the schimmel ? ” and he turned to seek him. 

“ No, no,” I said, “ let Jan fetch the horse. Come you 
to Sihamba, that she may show you the path before she 
dies.” 

Now Jan went to the glade that I pointed out to find the 
schimmel, while I led Ralph to Sihamba. She heard him 
coming and opened her eyes. 

“ Welcome, husband of Swallow,” she said, “you have 
done well and bravely, yet it was the hand of fate and not 
yours that smote yonder on the rock point. Now hearken 

,” and she told the road which he must follow across 

the Quathlamba, if he would hope to reach the white 
koppie camp by dawn. 

Before she had done, for the dying Sihamba spoke slowly 
and with pain, J an came leading the schimmel saddled and 
bridled, for Swart Piet’s saddle had been put upon it, the 
mare he was riding having been taken by one of his men 
whom he had sent to drive in the captured cattle. 

The great black horse, which I rejoiced to see once more, 
was somewhat thin, for he had lacked water like the rest, 
but throughout the siege he had been well tended by Si- 
hamba and Zinti, and fed with green corn, and since that 
morning he had drunk all he would, so that now he was 
strong again and fit to run. 

“ Bring me the schimmel,” said Sihamba, but there was 
no need, for the brute which loved her now as always, had 
winded her, and coming to where she lay, put down his 
head and fondled her with his black lips. Catching him 
by the forelock, she drew herself up, and as once before she 
had done before he swam the Red Water, she whispered 
into his ear, and as I live the beast seemed to listen and 
understand. 


327 


“ Not I, not I,” she said alond when she had finished 
whispering, “ not I but the Englishman, yet, Horse, I 
think that I shall ride you again, but it will be beyond 
the darkness. Stay not, stumble not, for you go on your 
last and greatest gallop. Speed like the swallow to save 
the Swallow, for so shall you live on when your swift bones 
are dust. Now, Englishman, away.” 

Ealph stooped down and kissed the woman, the angel 
whom God had sent to save him and his, and with her 
dying lips she blessed him and Suzanne, prophesying to 
them life and joy. Then he leapt into the saddle, and with 
a snort and a quick shake of its head the schimmel plunged 
forward in the red glow of the sunset. 

Sihamba leaned against the rock and watched the light 
pass. As its last ray fell upon her quivering face, she 
lifted her arms and cried, “ Swallow, I have kept my oath. 
Swallow, I have served you well and saved you. Sister, 
forget me not.” 

With these words upon her lips Sihamba Ngenyanga 
died; yes, she and the daylight died together, while Jan 
and I stood over her and wept. 


CHAPTER XXXY 


THE SCHIMMEl/S LAST EACE 

Ralph cleared the mountain slope, but before be bad 
covered a mile of way the darkness began to fall, till pres- 
ently the night was black. How be must ride slowly, 
steering bis path by the stars, and searching the dim out- 
line of the mountains with his eyes. 

But search as he would Ralph could not see the saw- 
edged rock. He reached the range indeed, and for hour 
after hour roamed up and down it, his heart torn with 
helpless haste and fears, hut it was of no use, so at last he 
dismounted, and holding the schimmel by the bridle al- 
lowed him to eat a little grass while he waited for the moon 
to rise. Oh! never was the moon so long in coming, hut 
at length it came, and with it clear, soft light. He looked, 
and there, not half a mile away, just showing in the 
shadows, was the saw-edged rock he sought. 

“ There is little time to lose,” Ralph muttered to himself 
as the stallion swept across the plain towards the rock. 

In three hours it will he dawn, and these mountains are 
sheer and wide.” 

How he was in the pass and galloping up its rocky steeps 
as fast as the horse dare travel and not fall. IJp he went 
through the moonlit silence that was broken only by the 
distant roaring of lions; up for one hour and for two. How 

828 


329 


he was at the crest of the mountains, and beneath him, miles 
away, lay the dim veldt, and there — yes, there in the far 
distance — the moonbeams sparkled upon a white-topped 
koppie and the waters of a river that washed its base. 
Miles and miles away, and but one hour left to cover them. 
One short hour, and if it was not enough then death by 
the Zulu assegai would be the portion of Suzanne and of 
those among whom she sheltered. For a moment Ralph 
breathed the horse, then he shook the reins, and with a 
snort of pride the schimmel started upon his last gallop. 

Ah! what a ride was that. 'Had ever man the like of it? 
Rushing down an untrodden mountain way swifter than 
others dare travel on a plain, bounding from rock to rock 
like a buck, dashing through streams, and leaping dim 
gullies at a stride. On, on went the schimmel, with never 
a slip and never a stumble. On, swifter than a sassaby 
and surer-footed than a fox; now the worst of the road 
was passed, and a long, smooth slope, almost free from 
stones, led them to the grassy plain beneath. The schim- 
mel swept down it at a fearful pace and reached the level 
land in safety, but the strain of that mad gallop told its 
tale upon him, for he was drenched with sweat, his eye was 
red with blood, and the breath whistled in his throat. 

Ralph raised himself in his stirrups and scanned the sky, 
which began to brighten with the coming dawn. 

“ There is time,” he muttered, “ for the koppie is near, 
and the Zulus will not attack till they can see the white 
moons upon their finger nails.” 

Now he was speeding up a long rise, for here the land 
lies in waves like a frozen sea. He topped it, and in an 
instant — almost before he saw them — he had swept 
through a Zulu impi marching stealthily in a triple line 
with companies thrown forward to the right and left. They 


330 


shouted in astonishment, bnt before they could harm him 
or the horse he was out of reach of their spears and gallop- 
ing forward with a glad heart, for now he thought the 
danger done with. 

Down the slope he thundered, and the sound of his 
horse’s hoofs came to the ears of Suzanne, who, frozen 
with terror, crouched in the grass near the spring at the 
foot of it. Turning her eyes from the ridge where she 
had seen the Zulus, she looked behind her. At first she 
could see nothing except a great horse with a man upon its 
back, but as she stared, presently she recognised the horse 
— it was the schimmel, and none other. 

And the man. Whose shape was that? No, this one 
had a golden beard. Ah! He lifted his head, from which 
the hat had fallen, and — did she dream? Nay, by Heaven, 
it was her husband, grown older and bearded, but still her 
husband. In the piercing agony of that happiness she 
sank back half-fainting, nor was it till he was almost upon 
her that she could gain her feet. He saw her, and in the 
dim light, mistaking her for a Zulu soldier who way-laid 
him, lifted the gun in his hand to fire. Already he was 
pressing the trigger when — when she found her voice and 
cried out: 

“ Ealph, Ealph, I am Suzanne, your wife.” 

As the words left her lips it seemed to her as though 
some giant had thrown the big horse back upon its 
haunches, for he slipped past her, his flanks almost touch- 
ing the ground, which he ploughed with outstretched 
hoofs. Then he stopped dead. 

“Have I found you at last, wife?” cried Ealph, in a 
voice of joy so strange that it sounded scarcely human. 
“ Mount swiftly, for the Zulus are behind.” 


381 


Thus, then, these two met again, not on the Mountain 
of the Man’s Hand indeed, as the vision had foretold, but 
very near to it. 

“ Hay,” Suzanne answered, as she sprang on to the sad- 
dle before him, “ they are in front, for I saw them.” 

Ralph looked. Yes, there they were in front and to the 
side and behind. All round them the Zulu impi gathered 
and thickened, crying, “ Bulala umlungu ” (Kill the white 
man) as they closed in upon them at a run. 

“ Oh! Ralph, what can we do?” murmured Suzanne. 

“ Charge them and trust to God,” he answered. 

“ So be it, husband,” and, turning herself upon the pom- 
mel of the saddle, she threw her arms round his neck and 
kissed him on the lips, whispering, “ At least we have met 
again, and if we die it shall be together.” 

“ Hold fast,” said Ralph, and calling aloud to the horse 
he set his teeth and charged. 

By now the Zulus in front were running down the 
opposing slope in clusters not much more than a hundred 
yards away; indeed, the space between them was so narrow 
that the schimmel, galloping up hill under his double load, 
could scarcely gather speed before they were among them. 
When they were within ten yards Ralph held out the gun 
in one hand and tired it, killing a man. Then he cast it 
away as useless, and placing his right arm about the waist 
of Suzanne, he bent his body over her to protect her if he 
might, urging on the horse with feet and voice. 

How they were in them and ploughing through their 
ever-thickening ranks, throwing their black bodies to this 
side and to that as a ship throws the water from its bows. 
Here, there, everywhere spears flashed and stabbed, but as 
yet they were unhurt, for the very press saved them, al- 


332 


though an assegai was quivering in the flank of the schim- 
mel. Ah! a pang as of the touch of red-hot iron and a 
spear had pierced Ralph’s left shoulder, remaining fast in 
the wound. Still lower he bent his body till his head was 
almost hidden in the flowing mane of the schimmel, but 
now black clutching hands caught feet and bridle rein, and 
slowly the great horse lost way and stopped. A tall Zulu 
stabbed it in the chest, and Ralph gasped, “ It is over! ” 

But it was not over, for, feeling the pain of this new 
w'ound, of a sudden the stallion went mad. He shrieked 
aloud as only a horse can shriek, and laying back his ears 
till his face was like the face of a wolf, he reared up on 
his hind legs and struck out with his hoofs, crushing the 
skulls and bodies of his tormentors. Down he came again, 
and with another scream rushed open-mouthed at that 
man who had stabbed him; his long white teeth gripped 
him across the body where the ribs end, and then the awful 
sight was seen of a horse holding in his mouth a man who 
yelled in agony, and plunging forward with great bounds 
while he shook him to and fro, as a dog will shake a rat.* 

Yes, he shook and shook till the flesh gave, and the man 
fell dying on the veldt. Again the furious beast opened 
his jaws from which gore dripped and rushed upon another, 
but this one did not wait for him — none waited. To the 
Zulus in those days a horse was a terrible wild beast, and 
this was a beast indeed, that brave as they were they dared 
not face. 

“It is a devil! and wizards ride it,” they cried, as they 
opened a path before its rush. 

They were through, and behind them like the voice of 

* The reader may think this incident scarcely credible, but for an 
authenticated instance of such behavior on the part of a horse he may 
be referred to “ Memoirs of General Marbot.” 


333 


hounds that hunt swelled the cry of the war-dogs of Din- 
gaan. They were through and living yet, though one 
broad bangtvan was fast in Ralph’s shoulder, and another 
stood in the schimmel’s chest. 

Not two miles away rose the koppie. “ The horse will 
die/’ thought Ralph as he drew Suzanne closer to him, 
and gripped the saddle with his knees. Indeed, he was 
dying; yet never since he was a colt, did the schimmel 
cover two miles of plain so fast as those that lay between 
the impi and the camp. Slowly and surely the spear 
worked its way into his vitals, but stretching out his head, 
and heedless of his burden, he rushed on with the speed 
of a racer. 

The Boers in the laager were awake at last, the sound of 
the gun and the war-cry of the Zulus had reached them 
faintly. Half-clad, men and women together, they stood 
upon their waggon-boxes looking towards the west. Be- 
hind them the pencils of daylight were creeping across the 
sky, and presently in their low rays they saw such a sight 
as they would never see again. Fast, fast towards them 
thundered a great roan horse, blood dripping from his 
chest, and jaws, and flank, and on its back a yellow-bearded 
man, in whose shoulder stood a spear, and who held in 
front of him a fainting woman. 

“ Soon he will fall suddenly, and we shall be crushed,” 
thought Ralph, and had the horse died while travelling 
at that speed it must have been so. But he did not. When 
within fifty yards of the laager suddenly he began to lurch 
and -roll in his stride; then with three bounds he stopped, 
and standing ^till, looked round with piteous blood-shot 
eyes, and whinnied faintly as though he heard some voice 
that he knew and loved. 


334 


Ralph slipped from his back, dragging Suzanne after 
him, and watched. 

For a moment the schimmel stood, his head touching the 
ground, till presently a bloody foam came upon his mouth, 
and blood poured from his eyes and ears. Now for the 
last time he arched his neck and shook his mane, then 
rearing straight up on his hind legs as he had done when 
he beat down the Zulus, he pawed the air with his fore 
feet and fell over upon his back to move no more. 

Suzanne had fainted, and Ralph carried her to the camp. 
There they drew out the spear from his shoulder and 
tended them both, though beyond gasping the words “ Pre- 
pare, for the Zulus are upon you,” it was long before either 
of them could speak. 

Yes, yes, they beat off the impi with the loss of only 
one man, but Ralph took no part in that fight. Indeed, 
when we joined them four days later, for after burying 
Sihamba Jan and I trekked round through the waggon 
pass, by the mercy of Heaven escaping the Zulus, they 
still lay prostrate on a cartel, clasping each other’s hands 
and smiling, but speaking little. The Boers, being warned 
and awake, beat off the Zulus with great loss to Dingaan, 
for they had the waggons in front, the koppie behind, and 
the river to one side. 

But there were many on that dreadful night whom no 
schimmel galloped to warn. Ah! God, six hundred of 
them, men and women, maids and children, and little 
babies at the breast, went down beneath the Zulu assegai 
in that red dawn. Six hundred of them slaughtered! 

Is not the name of the land Weenen — “ The land of 
Weeping” to this day? 

We avenged them at the battle of the Blood River in- 


335 


deed; but could vengeance give us back their lives which it 
had pleased the Lord to take thus fearfully? 

So, so, that is the end of my story of the forgotten by- 
gone years. As I, old Suzanne Botmar, tell it the shadow 
of that white-topped koppie falls upon this house and be- 
neath my very feet is the spot where the brave schimmel 
died. Ralph and Jan would not leave it — no, not even 
when the British hoisted their flag in Natal, making us 
English again after all that we had undergone to escape 
their usurping rule. We suffered much at that event, Jan 
and I, but though he said nothing, for indeed he did not 
dare to in my presence, I believe that Ralph did not suffer 
at all. Well, he was of English blood and it was natural 
that he should like his own flag best, though to this day 
I am very angry with my daughter Suzanne, who, for some 
reason or other, would never say a hard word of the ac- 
cursed British Government — or listen to one if she could 
help it. 

Yet, to be just, that same Government has ruled us well 
and fairly, though I never could agree with their manner 
of dealing with the natives, and our family has grown 
rich under its shadow. Yes, we were rich from the begin- 
ning, for Ralph and some Boers fetched back the cattle 
of Suzanne and Sihamba which Swart Piet’s thieves had 
stolen, and they were a very great herd. 

For many long and happy years after all these events 
that I have told of did Ralph and Suzanne live together, 
till at last God took my child Suzanne as she began to 
grow old. From that day life had no joys for Ralph, or 
indeed for any of us, and he fought with the English 
against Cetywayo at Isandlhwana, and fell there bravely, 
he and his son together, for his son’s wife, an English- 
woman, was dead also in childbirth. 


386 


Then all the world grew dark for Jan and me, but now 
in my extreme age once more it lightens like the dawn. 

0 God, who am I that I should complain? Nay, nay, 
to Thee, Almighty God, be praise and thanks and glory. 
Quite soon I, must fall asleep, and how rich and plentiful 
is that store which awaits me beyond my sleep; that store 
of friends and kindred who have passed me in the race 
and won the immortal crown of peace, which even now 
their dear hands prepare for me. Therefore to Thee, 
Maker of the world, he praise and thanks and glory. Yes, 
let all things praise Thee as do my aged lips. 

Note by the Baroness Glenthirsk, 
Formerly known as Suzanne Kenzie. 

It is something over three years since my great-grand- 
mother, the Yrouw Suzanne Botmar, finished dictating to 
me this history of her early days and of my grandparents, 
Ralph Kenzie, the English castaway, and Suzanne Botmar, 
her daughter. Now, if it he only as an instance of the 
wonderful workings of fate, or, as I prefer to call it, of 
Providence, I add this note to her narrative. As I write 
there stretches before me, not the bushy veldt of Weenen 
in Natal cut by the silver line of the Tugela, hut a vast 
prospect of heather-clad mountains, about whose feet 
brawls a salmon river. For this is Scotland, and I sit in 
the castle of Glenthirsk, while on the terrace beneath my 
window passes my little son, who, if he lives, will one day 
he lord of it. But I will tell the story, which is indeed 
a strange one. 

As I think my great-grandmother has said, I was edu- 
cated at a school in Durban, for, although she was in many 
ways so prejudiced and narrow, she wished that I should 


337 


be able to hold my own with other girls in learning as in 
all things. Also she knew well that this would have been 
the desire of my dear father, who was killed in the Zulu 
war with his father, the Ralph Kenzie of the story, whom, 
by the way, I can remember as a handsome grey-headed 
man. For my father was a thorough Englishman, wdth 
nothing of the Boer about him, moreover he married an 
English lady, the daughter of a Natal colonist, and for 
these reasons he and his grandmother did not get on very 
well. 

After I had finished my schooling I used to stay with 
friends in Durban, the parents of one of my schoolfellows, 
and it was at their house that I met my husband, Mr. Ralph 
Mackenzie, who then was called Lord Glenthirsk, his 
father having died about six months previous to our ac- 
quaintance. 

Ralph, my husband, was then quite young, only tiiree- 
and-tw~enty indeed, and a subaltern in a Scotch regiment 
which was quartered at Durban, whither it had come from 
India. As the term of this regiment’s foreign service was 
shortly to expire, and as at the time there was a prospect 
of further troubles in South Africa, my husband did not 
resign his commission on succeeding to the peerage, as his 
mother wished him to do, for he said that this was a step 
which he could consider when the regiment returned home, 
as it would do shortly. 

Well, we met, and since we are now quite old married 
people I may as well admit at once that we fell in love with 
each other, though to me it seemed a marvellous thing 
that this handsome and brilliant young lord, with his great 
wealth and all the world before him, should come to care 
for a simple Dutch girl who had little to recommend her 
except her looks (of which my great-grandmother thought, 


338 


or pretended to think, so little) and some small inheritance 
of South African farms and cattle. Indeed, when at last 
he proposed to me, begging me to he his wife, as though 
I were the most precious thing on the whole earth, I told 
him so plainly, having inherited some sense with my strain 
of Huguenot and Dutch blood, and though I trembled at 
the risk I ran, when everything lay in my own hand, I 
refused to become engaged to him until he had obtained 
the consent of his mother and relations, or, at the least, 
until he had taken a year to think the matter over. 

The truth is that, although I was still so young I had 
seen and heard enough of the misfortunes of unsuitable 
marriages, nor could I hear that it should ever he said of 
me that I had taken advantage of some passing fancy to 
entangle a man so far above me in rank and station. 
Therefore I would permit him to say nothing of our en- 
gagement, nor did I speak a single word of it to my great- 
grandmother or my friends. Still Ralph and I saw a 
great deal of each other during the month which I re- 
mained in Durban, for it is a gay town, and almost every 
day there were parties, and when there were none we rode 
out together. 

It was during one of these rides on the Berea that I told 
him what I knew of the strange history of my grandfather 
and grandmother, not all of it indeed, for it was not until 
the hook was dictated to me that I learned the exact facts, 
the matter being one of which our family spoke little. 
Ralph listened very attentively, and when I had done asked 
if I had the ring and locket of which I spoke. 

“ Here they are,” I answered, for since my father’s death 
I had always made a practice of wearing both of them. 

He examined the ring with its worn device and proud 
motto of “ Honour first,” and as he deciphered it I saw him 


339 


start, but when he came to look at the miniatures in the 
locket he turned quite pale. 

“ Bo you know, Suzanne,” he said presently, “ I believe 
that we must be distant cousins; at the least I am sure 
that I have seen the picture from which one of those 
miniatures was originally copied, and the crest and motto 
are those of my family.” 

Now I became very curious, and plied him with ques- 
tions, but he would say no more, only he led me on to 
talk of my grandfather, Ralph Kenzie, the castaway, and 
from time to time made a note in his pocket-book. Also 
afterwards I showed him the writing in the testament 
which was found on the body of the shipwrecked lady, my 
great-grandmother, and he asked me for an impression of 
the ring, and to allow the ivory miniatures and the writing 
to be photographed, which I did. 

Within three days of that ride we separated for a while, 
not without heartache on both our parts and some tears on 
mine, for I feared that when once he had lost sight of me 
he would put me from his mind, and as I loved him truly 
that thought was sore. But he, speaking very quietly, said 
that outside death only one thing should divide us from 
each other, namely, my own decree. 

“ Then Ralph, we shall be one for ever,” I answered, 
for at the moment I was too sad for any artifice of maiden 
coyness. 

“ You think so now, dear,” he said, “ but time will show. 

Supposing that I were not ,” and he stopped, nor would 

he complete the sentence. Indeed those words of his tor- 
mented me day and night for weeks, for I finished them in 
a hundred ways, each more fatal than the last. 

Well, I returned to the farm, and immediately after- 
wards my great-grandmother took the fancy of dictating 


340 


this history, her reason for doing so being, as I believe, 
what she has said upon the subject notwithstanding, that 
she desired me to become acquainted with the actual facts 
of my descent, and especially with those of the fraud which, 
in their deep love for their adopted son, my grandfather, 
she and her husband practised upon the Lord Grlenthirsk 
of that day. This story which (after making every al- 
lowance for slips of memory, and for a certain readiness 
to accept supernatural explanations of events which was 
characteristic of my great grandmother, notwithstanding 
her affected scepticism, I believed to be perfectly true in all 
essentials), when taken together with my lover’s words, 
gave me much cause for thought. But I said nothing 
of this either to her or in writing to him, for I felt the 
matter to be delicate. 

By each weekly mail I heard from Ralph, but although 
his letters were full of love and kindness, he said nothing 
of coming to see me, and this I could not understand, since 
I knew that it would not be difficult for him to take a few 
weeks’ leave. Indeed, I was sore upon the point, and 
hinted as much to him in my letters, but still he made no 
answer to that part of them, although I told him I thought 
it only right that he should see me in my Boer home, and 
there form his judgment of it and me. 

Nearly six months had gone by since we parted, when 
one day I heard that a small body of troops was coming 
to the neighbouring township * to relieve the company 
stationed there. Further I heard that they were High- 
landers, but this I did not believe, for, so far as I knew, 
Ralph’s was the only Highland regiment in the colony, 
and he said nothing of any such movement in his letters 
from Durban. 

One morning my great-grandmother finished dictating 


341 


her history, the ending of which seemed to affect her much, 
for when it was done she told me sharply to put the typed 
sheets away and let her hear or see no more of them. Then 
she rose with difficulty, for the dropsy in her limbs made 
her inactive, and walked with the help of a stick to the 
stGep, where she sat down, looking across the plain at the 
solemn range of the Drakensberg and thinking, without 
doubt, of that night of fear when my grandfather had 
rushed down its steeps upon the great schimmel to save 
her daughter and his wife from an awful death. 

The stead where we lived in Natal was built under the 
lea of a projecting spur of the white-topped koppie, and 
over that spur runs a footpath leading to the township. 
Suddenly the old lady looked up and, not twenty yards, 
away from her, saw standing on the ridge of it, as though 
in doubt which way to turn, a gentleman dressed in the 
kilted uniform of an officer of a Highland regiment the 
like of which she had never seen before. 

“ Dear Lord!” I heard her exclaim, “here is a white 
man wearing the mooclia of a Kaffir. Suzanne! Suzanne! 
come and send away this half-clad fellow.” 

Putting down my papers I ran from the room and at a 
single glance saw that “the half-clad fellow” was none 
other than Ralph himself. In my delight I lost my head,, 
and forgetting everything except that my betrothed was 
there before me, I sprang from the stoep and, flying up 
the little slope, I fell into his open arms. For a few 
seconds there was silence, then from behind me rose a 
dreadful shriek followed by cries for help. Freeing myself 
from Ralphs embrace, I looked round to see my great- 
grandmother hobbling towards us with uplifted sticks 
Ralph put his eye-glass in his eye and looked at her. 

“Who is this old lady, Suzanne?” he asked. 


842 


Before I could answer there came from her lips such 
a torrent of indignation as I had never heard before. 

“ What is she saying?” asked Ralph again, who could 
not understand one word of Dutch. “ She seems put 
out.” 

“ It is my great-grandmother, the Yrouw Botmar,” I 
faltered, “ and she does not understand — I have never 
told her.” 

“Ah! I see. Well, perhaps it would be as well to ex- 
plain,” he answered, which I accordingly began to do as 
best I could, feeling more foolish than ever I did before. 
As I stammered out my excuses I saw her face change, 
and guessed that she was no longer listening to me. 

“ Who does the man remind me of? ” she said, speaking 
aloud, but to herself. “ Allemachter! his face is the face 
of that English lord who visited us with the lawyer more 
than fifty years ago. Yes, his face is the face of Ralph’s 
cousin. Girl,” she added, turning on me fiercely, “ tell 
me that man’s name.” 

“ His name is Lord Glenthirsk.” 

“ Lord Glenthirsk! The same face and the same name 
and you in his arms. Is God then making a sequel to the 
:story which I finished this day? Come,” and she hobbled 
back to the stoep. “ Be seated,” she said when we had 
reached it. “ How, speak; no, Suzanne, give me that 
kaross.” 

I handed her the rug, wondering what she meant to do 
with it, and disturbed as I was, nearly burst into hysterics 
when I saw her solemnly place it upon Ralph’s knees say- 
ing, “ The man has lost his garments and will catch a 
•chill.” 

“ Would you kindly explain,” said Ralph blandly, “ what 
the old lady is at now. Really I do not feel cold.” 


343 


“ Your kilt surprises her,” I stammered; whereat he 
began to laugh. 

“ Silence,” she exclaimed in so vigorous a voice that he 
stopped at once. “ Now tell your story; no, I forgot, the 
man is not educated, do you interpret for him, Suzanne.” 

“ First I have something to say for myself, grand- 
mother,” I answered, and in a few words I told that Ralph 
and I were affianced, though I had said nothing of it, 
because I wished to give him opportunity to change his 
mind if he should desire to do so. 

“ Change his mind! ” said the old lady, with a glare of 
indignation. “ I should like to see him dare to change 
his mind, this Englishman whom you seem to have 
honoured thus, opsitting with him without my leave. A 
lord indeed? 'What do I care for lords? The question is 
whether I should not order the English creature off the 
place; yes, and I would do it were not his face the face of 
Ralph’s cousin, and his name the name Glenthirsk.” 

When I had interpreted as much of this speech as I 
thought necessary, there was a little silence, after which 
Ralph began to speak very solemnly. 

“ Listen, Suzanne,” he said, “ and repeat my words to 
your great-grandmother. She says that my name is Lord 
Glenthirsk, but within the last few days I have come to 
believe that it is nothing of the sort, but only plain Ralph 
Mackenzie.” 

ce What do you mean ? ” I asked, astonished. 

“ I mean, Suzanne, that if your legitimate descent from 
that Ralph Mackenzie who was cast away about sixty years 
ago on the coast of the Transkei can be proved — as I be- 
lieve it can, for I have made inquiries, and find that his 
marriage to your grandmother to which her mother who 
still lives can bear witness, was duly registered — then you 


344 


are the Baroness Glenthirsk of Glenthirsk, and I, the 
descendant of a younger son, am only Lieutenant Ralph 
Mackenzie of Her Majesty’s — Highlanders.” 

“ Oh! Ralph, how can this be? ” I gasped. “ I thought 
that in England men took rank, not the women.” 

“ So they do generally,” he answered; “ hut as it happens 
in our family the title descends in the female line, and 
with it the entailed estates, so that you would succeed to 
your father’s rights although he never enjoyed them. Su- 
zanne, I am not speaking lightly; all this while that I have 
kept away from you I have been inquiring in Scotland and 
the Cape, for I sent home the photographs of those minia- 
tures and a statement of the facts, and upon my word I 
believe it to he true that you and no other are the heiress 
of our house.” 

Almost mechanically, for I was lost in amazement, I 
translated his words. My great-grandmother thought a 
while and said: 

“ Wonderful are the ways of the Lord who thus in my 
old age answers my prayers and rolls from my hack the 
load of my sin. Suzanne, ask that Scotchman if he still 
means to marry you,” and seeing me hesitate, as well I 
might, she struck her stick upon the floor and added, 
“ Obey, girl, and ask.” 

So with great shame I asked, explaining that I was 
forced to it. 

“Do I still mean to marry you, Suzanne?” he said, 
astonished. “ Why surely you must understand that the 
question is, do you still mean to marry me? When I 
begged you to take me some months ago I had much to 
offer; to-day if things he as I am sure they are, I am hut a 
penniless Scottish gentleman, while you are one of the 
richest and most noble ladies in Great Britain.” 


345 


By way of answer I looked at him in a fashion which I 
trust he understood, hut before I could speak Yrouw Bot- 
mar broke in, for, as usual, I had translated. 

“ Tell the man to stop talking about money and rank 
after his godless English manner. I wish to inquire of his 
character and religion / 5 And so she did clearly, and at 
length, hut I do not think that I need set down her ques- 
tions or his answers. 

At last, when we were both overwhelmed and gasping 
for breath, I refused flatly to ask anything more, whereon 
She ceased her examination, saying: 

“ Well, if he speaks the truth, which is doubtful, he 
does not seem to he any worse than other men, though 
that is saying little enough. Is he sound in wind and 
limb, and what illnesses has he had? 55 

“ You must ask him yourself / 5 I replied, losing patience, 
whereon she called me a '“ mealy-mouthed little fool 55 and 
laughed. Then of a sudden she said, “Kneel, both of 
yon , 55 and, strange as it may seem, we obeyed her, for we, 
and especially Balph, were afraid of the old lady. Yes, 
there we knelt on the stoep before her, while a Kaffir girl 
stood outside and stared with her mouth open. 

“ Balph Kenzie / 5 she said, “ whatever else you may he, 
at least you are an honest man like your grandfather before 
you, for w T ere it not so you would never have come to tell 
this child that your fortune is her fortune, and your title 
her title, though whether this he the case or not, I neither 
know nor care, since at least you are of the blood of my 
long dead adopted son, and that is more to me than any 
wealth or rank. 

“As for you, Suzanne, you are pert and deceitful, for 
you have kept secret from me that which I had a right to 
learn; also you have too good an opinion of your own looks, 


346 


which as I tell you now for the last time, are nothing com- 
pared to mine at your age, or even to those of my daughter 
Suzanne, your grandmother. But this I will say, you have 
a good heart and some of the spirit of your forbears, there- 
fore ” — and she laid one of her heavy hands on the head 
of each of us — “ I, old Suzanne Botmar, bless you both. 
You shall he married next week, and may you he happy in 
your marriage, and have children that would be a credit 
to me and your great-grandfather, could we have lived to 
see them. 

“ There, there, Balph and Suzanne — the first ones, my 
own lost Balph and Suzanne — will he glad to hear of this 
when I come to tell them of it, as I shall do shortly. Yes, 
they will he glad to hear of it — ” and she rose and hobbled 
back to the sit-hammer , turning at the open door to call 
out: 

“ Girl, where are your manners ? Make that Scotchman 
some of your coffee.” 

So we were married, and within the week, for, all my 
protestations notwithstanding, the Yrouw Botmar would 
suffer no delay. Moreover, by means of some other in- 
terpreter, Ralph, playing traitor, secretly brought my 
arguments to nothing, and indeed there was a cause for 
hurry, for just then his regiment was ordered to return 
to England. 

It was a strange sight, that marriage, for my great- 
grandmother attended it seated on the voor-hisse of her 
best waggon drawn by eighteen white oxen, the descendants 
of Dingaan’s royal cattle that Swart Piet stole to bring 
destruction on the Umpondwana, By her side was her 
husband, old Jan Botmar, whom she caused to he carried to 
the waggon and tied in it in his chair. JJe, poor old man, 


347 


knew nothing of what was passing, but from some words 
he let fall we gathered that he believed that he was once 
more starting on the great trek from the Transkei. My 
Ralph, he thought, was his adopted child, perhaps because 
of some inherited similarity of voice, for he called him 
“ son,” but my own presence puzzled him, for he said 
once or twice, “ So Suzanne has escaped from that hell- 
hound, Swart Piet. Have you killed the dog, Ralph? 
Ralph, have you killed the dog? ” 

Thus we went to the little church where the chaplain 
of the regiment was to wed us, the pipers going first, playing 
a wild marriage march on their bagpipes. Next came 
Ralph and I walking side by side, and after us the waggon 
with my great-grandparents, while the rear was brought 
up by a guard of honour formed of every available soldier 
in the company. Outside the open door of the church the 
waggon was halted, and from it the Yrouw Botmar wit- 
nessed the ceremony, causing the register to he brought 
to her to sign. This she did, resting the book upon the 
head of the Kaffir driver, down whose back she managed 
to upset the ink. 

“ Never mind,” she said, not the least disturbed, “ it 
cannot make the poor creature blacker than he is.” 

“ Oh! how can I leave you, grandmother? ” I said to her 
afterwards. 

“ Child,” she answered, with a stern face, “ in my youth, 
to keep one I loved near to me, I committed a great sin. 
Now by way of penance I part from one I love; yes, being 
yet alive I say farewell for ever to the last of my race. 
Thus in our age do we pay for the sins of youth. Go, 
and God go with you.” 

So I placed my hand in that of my husband and went. 
When we reached this country it was proved that the rank 


348 


and estates were mine by law, for the evidence of my 
descent was too strong to be disputed. I did not wish 
to take either, but Ralph insisted on it and I was over- 
ruled. Indeed, had I not done so, it seems that confusion 
and endless law-suits might have resulted in the future, 
perhaps after I am dead. 

Six months afterwards, in this castle of Glenthirsk, I 
received a letter, at the foot of which was faintly scrawled 
the signature of Suzanne Botmar. It was short and ran 
thus: — 

“ Grand-daughter Suzanne, 

“ Last night your great-grandfather died. To-day I 
buried him, and to-morrow I shall die also, for after 
being together for so many years I miss his company and 
mean to seek it again. Till we meet in Heaven, if your 
pomp and riches will allow you to come there through the 
eye of whatever needle it has pleased God to choose for 
you, farewell to you and your husband, whom I love be- 
cause Ralph Kenzie’s blood is in his veins.” 

As I learnt by other letters on that morrow of which she 
spoke my great-grandmother, the Yrouw Botmar, did die, 
for even in this she would not be thwarted, and was buried 
on the evening of the same day by the side of her husband, 
Jan Botmar. 


THE END 



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incidents are well imagined and described ; the reader, while he cannot repress his contempt 
for the supposed narrator, is always interested in the story, and there is an abundance of 
dramatic action. Mr. Weyman has caught the spirit of the narrative style of the period 
without endeavoring, evidently, to adhere to the vocabulary and diction, or peculiarities of 
syntax. . . . Again we see that Mr. Weyman has no superior among living writers of 

romance.” — Philadelphia Press. 

“ Turning aside from mediaeval French scenes, Stanley J. Weyman takes up in ‘ Shrews- 
bury ’ an English theme, and he weaves from the warp and woof of history and fancy a vivid, 
unique, close-textured and enthralling romance. . . . Mr. Weyman has produced in 

‘ Shrewsbury ’ a novel that all admirers of his former books will be eager to read, and that 
will win for him new suffrages. The illustrations are drawn with skill and appreciation.” 

— Beacon, Boston. 

“ ‘Shrewsbury’ is a magnificent confirmation of Mr. Weyman’s high estate in the world 
of fiction. 

Again he has proved in this, his latest novel, that the romantic treatment is capable, 
under a masterly hand, of uniting the thrill of imagination with the dignity of real life. His 
characters are alive, human, unforgetable. His scenes are unhackneyed, dramatic, power- 
ful. The action is sustained and consistent, sweeping one’s interest along irresistibly to a 
denouement at once logical and climactic. And through it all there glows that literary charm 
which makes his stories live even as those of Scott and Dumas live. . 

The whole novel is a work of genuine literary art, fully confirming the prediction that 
when the author of ‘A Gentleman of France’ once began to deal with the historical materials 
of his own country he would clinch his title to be ranked among the greatest of romantic 
writers.” — Chicago Tribune. 

“ Aside from the story, which is remarkably well told, this book is of value for its fine 
pen pictures of William of Orange and his leading courtiers— a story of absorbing interest, 
but it differs materially from any of his other works. The best thing in the book is the 
sketch of Ferguson, the spy, and of the remarkable hold which he obtained over prominent 
men by means of his cunning and his malignancy. He dominates every scene in which he 
appears. Some of these scenes have rarely been excelled in historical fiction for intensity of 
interest. Those who have not read it, and who are fond of the romance of adventure, will 
find it fulfils Mr. Balfour’s recent definition of the ideal novel— something which makes us 
forget for the time all worry and care, and transports us to another and more picturesque age.” 

— San Francisco Chronicle. 

“ A most readable and entertaining story. . . . Ferguson and Smith, the plotters, 
the motners of the duke and Mary the courageous, who became the wife of Price, all seem 
very real, and with the other characters and the adventures which they go through make up 
an interest-holding book which can be honestly recommended to every reader of fiction.” 

— Boston Times. 

“ A romance written in the author’s best vein. The character drawing is particularly 
admirable, and Richard Price, Ferguson, King William and Brown stand out in strong relief 
and with the most expressive vitality. The story is also interesting and contains many 
strong scenes, and one follows the adventures of the various characters with unabated in- 
terest from first page to last.” — Evening Gazette, Boston. 


LONGMANS, GEEEN, & CO., 91-93 ITFTH AYE., NEW YOKE. 


THE RED COCKADE. 

A NOVEL OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 

By STANLEY J. WEYMAN. 

AUTHOR OF “A GENTLEMAN OF FRANCE,” “UNDER THE RED ROBE,” “ THE HOUSE OF 
THE WOLF,” “MY LADY ROTH A,” ETC. 


With 48 Illustrations by R. Caton Woodville. Crown 8vo, 

Cloth, ornamental, $ 1 .50. 


“Deserves a place among the best historical fiction of the latter part of this century. . 

. . The gradual maddening of the people by agitators, the rising of those who have re- 

venges to feed, the burnings and the outrages are described in a masterly way. The attack 
on the castle of St. Alais, the hideous death of the steward, the looting of the great building, 
and the escape of the young lovers — these incidents are told in that breathless way which 
Weyman has made familiar in other stories. It is only when one has finished the book and 
has gone back to reread certain passages that the dramatic power and the sustained passion 
of these scenes are clearly felt.” — San Francisco Chronicle. 

“ ‘The Red Cockade,’ a story of the French Revolution, shows, in the first place, care- 
ful study and deliberate, well-directed effort. Mr. Weyman . . . has caught the spirit 

of the times. . . . The book is brimful of romantic incidents. 1 1 absorbs one’s interest 

from the first page to the last ; it depicts human character with truth, and it causes the good 
and brave to triumph. In a word, it is real romance.” — Syracuse Post. 

“We have in this novel a powerful but not an exaggerated study of the spirit of the high 
born and the low born which centuries of aristocratic tyranny and democratic suffering en- 
gendered in France. It is history which we read here, and not romance, but history which 
is so perfectly written, so veritable, that it blends with the romantic associations in which it 
is set as naturally as the history in Shakespeare’s plays blends with the poetry which vital- 
izes and glorifies it.” — Mail and Express, New York. 

“ It will be scarcely more than its due to say that this will always rank among Weyman’s 
best work. In the troublous times of 1789 in France its action is laid, and with marvellous 
skill the author has delineated the most striking types of men and women who made the Rev- 
olution so terrible.” — New York World. 

“ * The Red Cockade ’ is a novel of events, instinct with the spirit of the eighteenth cen- 
tury and full of stirring romance. The tragic period of the French Revolution forms a frame 
in which to set the adventures of Adrien du Pont, Vicomte de Saux, and the part he plays 
in those days of peril has a full measure of dramatic interest. . . . Mr. Weyman has 

evidently studied the history of the revolution with a profound realization of its intense 
tragedy.” — Detroit Free Press. 

“ The action of the story is rapid and powerful. The Vicomte’s struggle with his own 
prejudices, his unhappy position in regard to his friends, the perils he encounters, and the 
great bravery he shows in his devotion to Denise are strikingly set forth, while the historical 
background is made vivid and convincing — the frenzy caused by the fall of the Bastile, the 
attacks of the mob, the defence and strategy of the nobility, all being described with dra-^ 
matic skill and verisimilitude. It is a fascinating and absorbing tale, which carries the reader* 
with it, and impresses itself upon the mind as only a novel of unusual merit and power 
can do.” — Boston Beacon. 

“The story gives a view of the times which is apart from the usual, and marked with a 
fine study of history and of human conditions and impulse on Mr. Weyman s part. Regard- 
ing his varied and well-chosen characters one cares only to say that they are full of interest 
and admirably portrayed. . . . It is one of the most spirited stories of the hour, and one 

of the most delightfully freighted with suggestion.” — Chicago Interior. 

“With so striking a character for his hero, it is not wonderful that Mr. Weyman has 
evolved a story that for ingenuity of plot and felicity of treatment is equal to some of his 
best efforts. . . . ‘ The Red Cockade ’ is one of the unmistakably strong historical ro- 

mances of the season.” — Boston Herald. 

“ We are greatly mistaken if the ‘ Red Cockade ’ does not take rank with the very 
best book that Mr. Weyman has written.” — Scotsman. 


LONGMANS, GREEN, & CO., 91-93 EIPTE AYE., NEW YORE. 


A GENTLEMAN OF FRANCE. 

Being the Memoirs of Gaston de Bonne, 

Sieur de Marsac. 

By STANLEY J. WEYMAN. 

AUTHOR OF “THE HOUSE OF THE WOLF,” ETC. 


With Frontispiece and Vignette by H. J. Ford. 

12mo, Cloth, Ornamental, $1,25. 

“One of the best novels since ‘Lorna Doone.’ It will be read and then re-read for the 
^lere pleasure its reading gives. The subtle charm of it is not in merely transporting the 
nineteenth-century reader to the sixteenth, that he may see life as it was then, but in trans- 
forming him into a sixteenth-century man, thinking its thoughts, and living its life in perfect 
touch and sympathy ... it carries the reader out of his present life, giving him a new 
and totally different existence that rests and refreshes him.” — N. Y. World. 

“ No novelist outside of France has displayed a more definite comprehension of the very 
essence of mediaeval French life, and no one, certainly, has been able to set forth a depiction 
of it in colors so vivid and so entirely in consonance with the truth. . . . The characters 

in the tale are admirably drawn, and the narrative is nothing less than fascinating in its fine 
flavor of adventure.” — Beacon, Boston. 

“ We hardly know whether to call this latest work of Stanley J. Weyman a historical 
romance or a story of adventure. It has all the interesting, fascinating and thrilling charac- 
teristics of both. The scene is in France, and the time is that fateful eventful one which 
culminated in Henry of Navarre becoming king. Naturally it is a story of plots and intrigue, 
of danger and of the grand passion, abounding in intense dramatic scenes ar»d most interest- 
ing situations. It is a romance which will rank among the masterpieces of historic fiction.” 

— Advertiser, Boston. 

u A romance after the style of Dumas the elder, and well worthy of being read by those 
who can enjoy stirring adventures told in true romantic fashion. . . . The great person- 

ages of the time — Henry III. of Valois, Henry IV., Rosny, Rambouillet, Turenne — are 
brought in skillfully, and the tragic and varied history of the time forms a splendid frame in 
which to set the picture of Marsac’s love and courage . . . the troublous days are well 

described and the interest is genuine and lasting, for up to the very end the author manages 
effects which impel the reader to go on with renewed curiosity.” — T he Nation! 

“A genuine and admirable piece of work. . . . The reader will not turn many pages 

before he finds himself in the grasp of a writer who holds his attention to the very last mo- 
ment of the story. The. spirit of adventure pervades the whole from beginning to end. . . . 

It may be said that the narration is a delightful love story. The interest of the reader 
Is constantly excited by the development of unexpected turns in the relation of the principal 
lovers. The romance lies against a background of history truly painted. . . . The 

descriptions of the court life of the period and of the factional strifes, divisions, hatreds of the 
age, are fine. . . . This story of those times is worthy of a very high place among histori- 

cal novels of recent years.”— Public Opinion. 

“ Bold, strong, dashing, it is one of the best we have read for many years. We sat down 
for a cursory perusal, and ended by reading it delightedly through. . . . Mr. Weyman 

has much of the vigor and rush of incident of Dr. Conan Doyle, and this book ranks worthily 
beside ‘ The White Company.* . . . We very cordially recommend this book to the jaded 
aovel reader who cares for manly actions more than for morbid introspection.” 

— The Churchman. 

“The book is not only good literature, it is a ‘rattling good story,’ instinct with the 
spirit of true adventure and stirring emotion. Of love and peril, intrigue and fighting, there 
is plenty, and many scenes could not have been bettered. In all his adventures, and they 
are many, Marsac acts as befits his epoch and his own modest yet gallant personality. Well- 
known historical figures emerge in telling fashion under Mr. Weyman’s discriminating and 
fascinating touch.” — Athenaeum. 

“ I cannot fancv any reader, old or young, not sharing with doughty Crillon his admiration 
for M. de Marsac, who, though no swashbuckler, has a sword that leaps from its scabbard at the 
breath of insult. . . . There are several historical personages in the novel ; there is, of 

course, a heroine, of great beauty and enterprise; but that true ‘Gentleman of France,* 
M. dr Marsac, with his perseverance and valor, dominates them all.” 

— Mr. James Payn in the Illustrated London News. 


LONGMANS, GKEEN, & 00., 91-93 PIPTH AVE., NEW YOBE. 


MY LADY ROTHA. 

A ROMANCE OF THE THIRTY YEARS’ WAR. 

By STANLEY J. WEYMAN. 

AUTHOR OF “A GENTLEMAN OF FRANCE,” “UNDER THE RED ROBE,*’ 
“THE HOUSE OF THE WOLF.” 


With Eight Illustrations. Crown 8vo, $1.25. 


“ Few writers of fiction who have appeared in England in the last decade have given 
their readers more satisfaction than Mr. Stanley J. Weyman, and no single writer of this 
number can be said to have approached him, much less to have equaled him in the romantic 
world of the historical novel ... he has the art of story-telling in the highest degree, 
the art which instinctively divines the secret, the soul of the story which he tells, and the 
rarer art, if it be not the artlessness, which makes it as real and as inevitable as life itself. 
His characters are alive, human, unforgetable, resembling in this ’■espect those of Thackeray 
in historical lines and in a measure those of Dumas, with whom, and not inaptly, Mr. Wey- 
man has been compared. His literature is good, so good that we accept it as a matter of 
course, as we do that of Thackeray and Scott. . . . Mr. Weyman’s historical novels 

will live.” — New York Mail and Express. 

“ . . . differs signally from Mr. Weyman’s earlier published works. It is treated 

with the minuteness and lovingness of a first story which has grown up in the mind of the 
author for years. . . . Marie Wort is one of the bravest souls that ever moved quietly 

along the pages of a novel. She is so unlike the other feminine characters whom Weyman 
has drawn that the difference is striking and adds significance to this one book. . . . 

' My Lady Rotha ’ is full of fascinating interest, all the more remarkable in a work adhering 
so strictly to historical truth.” — Evening Post, Chicago. 

“This last book of his is brimful of action, rushing forward with a roar, leaving the 
reader breathless at the close ; for if once begun there is no stopping place. The concep- 
tion is unique and striking, and the culmination unexpected. The author is so saturated 
with the spirit of the times of which he writes, that he merges his personality in that of the 
supposititious narrator, and the virtues and failings of his men and women are set forth in a 
fashion which is captivating from its very simplicity. It is one of his best novels.” 

, — Public Opinion. 

“Readers of Mr. Wey man’s novels will h ave no hesitation in pronouncing his just pub- 
lished ‘My Lady Rotha’ in everyway his greatest and most artistic production. We 
know of nothing moie fit, both in conception and execution, to be classed with the immortal 
Waverleys than this his latest work. ... A story true to life and true to the times 
which Mr. Weyman has made such a careful study.” — The Advertiser, Boston. 

“ No one of Mr. Weyman’s books is better than ‘ My Lady Rotha ’ unless it be * Under 
the Red Robe,’ and those who have learned to like his stories of the old days when might 
made right will appreciate it thoroughly. It is a good book to read and read again.” 

— New York World. 

“ ... As good a tale of adventure as any one need ask ; the picture of those w ar- 
like times is an excellent one, full of life and color, the blare of trumpets and the flash of 
steel -and toward the close the description of the besieged city of Nuremberg and of the 
battle under Wallenstein’s entrenchments is masterly.” — Boston Traveller. 

“The loveliest and most admirable character in the story is that of a young Catholic girl, 
while in painting the cruelties and savage barbarities of war at that period the brush is held 
by an impartial hand. Books of adventure and romance are apt to be cheap and sensational. 
Mr. Weyman’s stories are worth tons of such stuff. They are thrilling, exciting, absorbing, 
interesting, and yet clear, strong, and healthy in tone, written by a gentleman and a man ol 
sense and taste.” — Sacred Heart Review, Boston. 

“ Mr. Weyman has outdone himself in this remarkable book. . . . The whole story 

Is told with consummate skill. The plot is artistically devised and enrolled before the read- 
er’s eyes. The language is simple and apt, and the descriptions are graphic and terse. The 
charm of the story takes hold of the reader on the very first page, and holds him spell-bound 
to the very end.” — New Orleans Picayune. 


LONGMANS, GREEN, & CO., 91-83 FIPTH AYE., NEW YORK. 


UNDER THE RED ROBE. 

A ROMANCE. 

By STANLEY J. WEYMAN, 

AUTHOR OF “A GENTLEMAN OF FRANCE,” “ THE HOUSE OF THE WOLF,” ETC, 

With 1 2 Full-page Illustrations by R. Caton Woodville. 
1 2mo, Linen Cloth, Ornamental, $1.25. 


“ Mr. Weyman is a brave writer, who imagines fine things and describes them 
splendidly. There is something to interest a healthy mind on every page of his new 
story. Its interest never flags, for his resource is rich, and it is, moreover, the kind of 
a story that one cannot plainly see the end of from Chapter I. . . . the story reveals 
a knowledge of French character and French landscape that was surely never ac- 
quired at second hand. The beginningis wonderfully interesting.” — New York Times. 

“ As perfect a novel of the new school of fiction as ‘ Ivanhoe ’ or ‘ Henry Esmond ’ 
was of theirs. Each later story has shown a marked advance in strength and treat- 
ment, and in the last Mr. Weyman . . . demonstrates that he has no superior 
among living novelists. . . . There are but two characters in the story — his art 

makes all other but unnoticed shadows cast by them— and the attention is so keenly 
fixed upon one or both, from the first word to the last, that we live in their thoughts 
and see the drama unfolded through their eyes.” — N. Y. World. 

“ It was bold to take Richelieu and his time as a subject and thus to challenge com- 
parison with Dumas’s immortal musketeers ; but the result justifies the boldness. . . . 
The plot is admirably clear and strong, the diction singularly concise and telling, and 
the stirring events are so managed as not to degenerate into sensationalism. Few 
better novels of adventure than this have ever been written.” — Outlook, New York. 

“ A wonderfully brilliant and thrilling romance. . . . Mr. Weyman has a positive 
talent for concise dramatic narration. Every phrase tells, and the characters stano 
out with life-like distinctness. Some of the most fascinating epochs in French history 
have been splendidly illuminated by his novels, which are to be reckoned among the 
notable successes of later nineteenth-century fiction. This story of ‘ Under the Red 
Robe ’ is in its way one of the very best things he has done. It is illustrated with 
vigor and appropriateness from twelve full-page designs by R. Caton Woodville.” 

—Boston Beacon. 

“ It is a skillfully drawn picture of the times, drawn in simple and transparent 
English, and quivering with tense human feeling from the first word to the last. It is 
not a book that can be laid down at the middle of it. The reader once caught in its 
whirl can no more escape from it than a ship from the maelstrom.” 

— Picayune, New Orleans. 

“The ‘red robe’ refers to Cardinal Richelieu, in whose day the story is laid. 
The descriptions of his court, his jud’cial machinations and ministrations, his partial 
defeat, stand out from the book as vivid as flame against a background of snow. For 
the rest, the book is clever and interesting, and overflowing with heroic incident. 
Stanley Weyman is an author who has apparently come to stay.” — Chicago Post. 

“ In this story Mr. Weyman returns to the scene of his ‘ Gentleman of France,’ 
although his new heroes are of different mould. The book is full of adventure and 
characterized by a deeper study of character than its predecessor.” 

— Washington Post. 

“Mr. Weyman has quite topped his first success. . . . The author artfully 

E ursues the line on which his happy initial venture was laid. We have in Berault, the 
ero, a more impressive Marsac ; an accomplished duelist, telling the tale of his own 
adventures, he first repels and finally attracts us. He is at once the tool of Richelieu, 
and a man of honor. Here is a noteworthy romance, full of thrilling incident set down 
by a master-hand.”— Philadelphia Press. 


LONGMANS, GREEN, & 00., 91-93 FIPTH ATE., NEW YOKE. 


THE STORY OF FRANCIS CFUDDE. 

By STANLEY J. WEYMAN. 

AUTHOR OF “A GENTLEMAN OF FRANCE,” “UNDER THE RED ROBE,” “THE HOUSE OF 

THE WOLF,” “MY LADY ROTHA,” ETC. 


With Four Illustrations. Crown 8vo, $1.25. 


“ A delightfully told and exciting tale of the troublesome times of Bloody Mary in Eng- 
land and the hero— every inch a hero— was an important actor in them.” 

— New Orleans Picayune. 

“ It is a highly exciting tale from beginning to end, and very well told.” 

— New York Herald. 

“One of the best historical novels that we have read for some time. . . . It is a 

story of the time of Queen Mary, and is possessed of great dramatic power. . . . In char- 

acter-drawing the story is unexcelled, and the reader will follow the remarkable adventures 
of the three fugitives with the most intense interest, which end with the happy change on 
the accession of Elizabeth to the throne. — Home Journal, Boston. 

“ The book presents a good historical pen-picture of the most stirring period of English 
civilization, and graphically describes scenes and incidents which undoubtedly happened. 
The style is plain, and the book well worthy of careful perusal. 

“ Humor and pathos are in the pages, and many highly dramatic scenes are described 
with the ability of a master hand.” — Item, Philadelphia. 

“ Is worthy of careful reading; it is a unique, powerful, and very interesting story, the 
scene of which is laid alternately in England, the Netherlands, and the Rhenish Palatinate; 
the times are those of Bloody Mary. Bishop Gardiner plays a leading part in this romance, 
which presents in good shape the manners and customs of the period.” 

— Buffalo Commercial. 

“ A romance of the olden days, full of fire and life, with touches here and there of love 
and politics. . . . We have in this book a genuine romance of Old England, in which 

soldiers, chancellors, dukes, priests, and high-born dames figure. The time is the period of 
the war with Spain. Knightly deeds abound. The story will more than interest the reader; 
it will charm him, and he will scan the notices of forthcoming books for another novel by 
Weyman.” — Public Opinion, New York. 

“ Its humor, its faithful observance of the old English style of writing, and its careful 
adherence to historic events and localities, will recommend it to all who are fond of historic 
novels. The scenes are laid in England and in the Netherlands in the last four years of 
Queen Mary’s life.” -Literary World, Boston. 

“ Is distinguished by an uncommon display of the inventive faculty, a Dumas-like ingenu- 
ity in contriving dangerous situations, and an enviable facility for extricating the persecuted 
hero from the very jaws of destruction. The scene is laid alternately in England, the Neth- 
erlands, and the Rhenish Palatinate ; the times are those of Bloody Mary. Bishop Gardiner 
plays a leading part in this romance, which presents in good shape the manners and customs 
of the period. It is useless dividing the story into arbitrary chapters, for they will not serve 
to prevent the reader from ‘devouring’ the ‘ Story of Francis Cludde,’ from the stormy 
beginning to its peaceful end in the manor-house at Coton End.” 

— Public Ledger, Philadelphia. 

“ This is certainly a commendable story, being full of interest and told with great 
spirit. . . . It is a capital book for the young, and even the less hardened nerves of the 
middle aged will find here no superfluity of gore or brutality to mar their pleasure in a 
bright and clean tale of prowess and adventure.” — Nation, New York. 

“A well-told tale, with few, if any, anachronisms, and a credit to the clever talent of 
Stanley J. Weyman.” — Springfield Republican. 

“ It is undeniably the best volume which Mr. Weyman has given us, both in literary 
style and unceasing interest.” — Yale Literary Magazine. 


LONGMANS, GREEN, & 00., 91-93 PIFTH AYE., NEW YORK. 


FROM THE MEMOIRS 
OF A MINISTER OF FRANCE. 

By STANLEY J. WEYMAN, 

AUTHOR OF “A GENTLEMAN OF FRANCE,” “UNDER THE RED ROBE,” ETC., ETC. 

With 36 Illustrations, of which 1 5 are full-page. 
12mo, Cloth, Ornamental, $1.25. 


“ A collection of twelve tales, each one of which is to be classed as a masterpiece, 
so subtle and strong is it in the levelationof character, so impressive its portrayal 
of the times and the scenes with which it deals. . . . Mr. Weyman has produced 
a really brilliant book, one that will appeal alike to the lovers of literature, of adven- 
ture, and to those who demand in fiction the higher intellectual quality. . . . The 
chances are that those who take it up will not put it down again with a page or even 
a line unread.” — Boston Beacon. 

“ To read these merry tales of adventure and to lose all sense, for the moment, 
of life’s complexities, is a refreshment ; it is to drink again at the pure spring of 
romance. . . . Weyman . . . has caught more of the inner spirit of sixteenth 

century life than any romancer since Scott.” — Oregonian, Portland, Ore. 

“ These briefer tales have all the charm and attractiveness that attach to their 
author’s longer romances, and many of the leading characters of the latter figure in 
them. He catches the attention of the reader at the very outset and holds it to the end ; 
while his skill as a story-teller is so great that his characters become real beings to us, 
and the scenes which he describes seem actual and present occurrences as he narrates 
them.” — Sacred Heart Review, Boston. 


THE HOUSE OF THE WOLF. 

A ROMANCE. 

By STANLEY J. WEYMAN, 

AUTHOR OF “ A GENTLEMAN OF FRANCE,” ETC. 

With Frontispiece and Vignette by Charles Kerr. 
12mo, Cloth, Ornamental, $1.25. 


“ A delightful volume . . . one of the brightest, briskest tales I have met with for a 

1 >ng time. Dealing with the Eve of St. Bartholomew it portrays that night of horror from a 
point entirely new, and, we may add, relieves the gloom by many a flash and gleam of sun- 
shine. Best of all is the conception of the Vidame. His character alone would make the 
book live.”— Critic, N. Y. 

“ Recounted as by an eye witness in a forceful way with a rapid and graphic style that 
commands interest and admiration. 

Of the half dozen stories of St. Bartholomew’s Eve which we have read this ranks first 
in vividness, delicacy of perception, reserve power, and high principle.” 

— Christian Union, N. Y. 

“ A romance which, although short, deserves a place in literature along side of Charles 
Reade’s ‘ Cloister and the Hearth.’ ... We have given Mr. Weyman’s book not only 
a thorough reading with great interest, but also a more than usual amount of space because 
we consider it one of the best examples in recent fiction of how thrillmg and even nloody 
adventures and scenes may be described in a style that is graphic and true to detail, and yet 
delicate, quaint, and free from all coarseness and brutality.” 

—Commercial Advertiser, N. Y. 


LONGMANS, GREEN, & CO., 91-93 TILTH ATE., NEW YORK, 


A MONK OF FIFE. 

A ROMANCE OF THE DAYS OF JEANNE D’ARC. 

Done into English from the manuscript in the Scots College of Ratisbon 

By ANDREW LANG. 


With Frontispiece. 12mo, Cloth, Ornamental, $1.25. 


"Granting that Norman Leslie was no myth, and was truly admonished by his 
superior to set down these facts in writing, and with all reverence for this clever monk, 
who kept such an excellent account of the exciting scenes he witnessed in his youth, 
we must believe that the delightful charm which pervades this quaintly pathetic tale 
is due to no one as much as to Mr. Lang. The Maid of Orleans takes a clearer, 
sweeter identity for his telling, and the reader must insist upon feeling indebted to 
this incomparable writer for one of the most beautiful and touching romances given 
to the world for many a long day.”— Chicago Evening Post. 

“ Mr. Lang's portrait of the Maid is a beautiful one. He does not etherealize 
her unduly — indeed he rather insists on her most human characteristics ; and his 
portrait gains in lifelikeness from the skill with which he has woven into the story of 
her career as an inspired prophet and leader, little incidents showing her as the simple- 
hearted girl. The hero is supposed to be one of her body-guard, and his sweetheart 
one of her near friends. Although the Maid is really the central figure, the story of 
the lovers and the dangers of the hero and the heroine is so skillfully woven in that 
the book is nothing like a history of France at the time, but is a real romance; and 
because it is a real romance lets us into the spirit of the time better than any history 
that ever was or could be written. It is dangerous to prophesy just after the reading 
of any novel, but it seems to us that this is one of the novels that ought to live, at 
least for a generation or two.” — Colorado Springs Gazette. 

“Avery charming tale of the days of Joan of Arc, his leading characters being 
chosen from the band of Scotchmen who went to France and participated in the 
stirring campaign under the leadership of the Maid of Orleans which rescued France 
from the English. The many readers and students who are just now attracted by the 
revival of interest in the character and achievements of Jeanne D’Arc should by all 
means read Mr. Lang’s romance.” — Review of Reviews, N. Y. 

“ The story is admirably told in a style which reminds one of Stevenson’s best 
work in historical fiction.” — Boston Traveler. 

“ A brilliant, vivid, dramatic, and historically consistent depiction of the career of 
that wonderful maiden Joan of Arc is presented by Andrew Lang in his skillfully 
wrought, close-textured, and adventurous romance called ‘A Monk of Fife.’ ... It 
has from beginning to end a lifelike coloring that the sympathetic reader will find 
nothing less than enthralling.” — Boston Beacon. 

“ Mr. Lang has made a most pleasing and readable romance, full of love and 
fighting adventures and exciting episodes. There is a quaintness about the recital in 
keeping with the period and which is an added charm. The story of Joan of Arc has 
been many times told, but never any more interestingly than in this book.” 

— Boston Times. 

“ A delightful romance. . . . Mr. Lang has made admirable use of his material 
and has given us a quaint and stirring tale that is well worth reading.” 

—Brooklyn Eagle. 

“ A picture, rich in detail, of the days of the Maid of Orleans ; and it is abundantly 
clear that the picture is drawn by one who knows the period, not only in its dry, 
prosaic sequence of battles and marches, but in the spirit and the speech of the time 
. . . a love story hardly less graceful and delicate than r that of Aueassin and Nico- 

lete; . . . the book will be well worth reading as pure romance, by turns idyllic 

and epic, and that it has as well a distinct value from its careful presentation of a 
period so confusing to the novice in history.” — Critic, N. Y. 


LONGMANS, GREEN, & 00., 91-93 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK. 


HEART OF THE WORLD 


A STORY OF MEXICAN ADVENTURE. 

By H. RIDER HAGGARD, 

AUTHOR OF “SHE,” “MONTEZUMA’S DAUGHTER,” “ THE PEOPLE OF THE MIST,” ETC. 


With 1 3 full-page Illustrations by Amy Sawyer 
1 2mo, Cloth, Ornamental, $1.25. 


“ The adventures of Ignatio and his white friend will compare for strangeness with any 
that the writer has imagined. And the invention of the city and people of the heart, of the 
secret order, with its ritu.d and history, and the unforeseen crisis of the tale, shows that the 
quality that most distinguishes the author’s former works is still his in abundance. . . . 
The tale as a whole is so effective that we willingly overlook its improbability, and so novel 
that even those who have read all of Rider Haggard’s former works will still find something 
surprising in this.” — The Critic. 

“Here are strange adventures and wonderful heroisms. The scene is laid in Mexico. 
The story rehearses the adventures of an athletic Englishman who loves and weds an 
Indian princess. There are marvelous descriptions of the ‘ City of the Heart,’ a mysteri- 
ous town hemmed in by swamps and unknown mountains.” 

— Commercial Advertiser, New York. 

“ Has a rare fascination, and in using that theme Mr. Haggard has not only hit upon 
a story of peculiar charm, but he has also wrought out a story original and delightful to 
even the most jaded reader of the novel of incident.” — Advertiser, Boston. 

“It is a fascinating tale, and the reader will not want to put the book down till he has 
read the last word.” — Picayune, New Orleans. 

“The lovers of Rider Haggird’s glowing works have no reason to complain of his latest 
book. . . . The story is, all in all, one of the most entertaining of the author's whole 

list.” — T raveller, Boston. 

“ In its splendor of description, weirdness of imagery, its astonishing variety of detail, 
and the love story which blends with history and fantasy, the book without doubt is a 
creation distinct from previous tales. Maya, the Lady of the Heart, is an ideal character. 
. . . Interest is sustained throughout.” — Post, Chicago. 

“The success of Mr. Haggard’s stories consists in the spirit of adventure which runs 
through them, in their rapid succession of incidents, in the bustle which animates their 
characters, and in the trying situations in which they are placed. . . . th s last story 

. . . introduces his readers ... to a comparatively new field of fiction in the evolu- 

tion of an ancient Aztec tradition concerning the concealed existence of a wonderful Golden 
City. . . .” — Mail and Express, New York. 

“ A thrilling story of adventure in Mexico. It is doubtful if he has surpassed in vivid 
coloring his delineation of the character of ‘Maya.’ This work is really a notable addition 
to the great body of romance with which his name is associated.” — Press, Philadelphia. 

“ This romance is really one of the best he has given us.” — Times, Philadelphia. 

“ When the love of romance shall die in the human heart we may bid farewell to all that 
is best in fiction. ... In this story we have the same reckless dash of imaginat'on and 
the same gorgeous profusion of barbaric scenes and startling adventure which have always 
characterized Mr. Haggard’s works.” — Independent, New York. 

“ His latest, and one of his most powerful stories. It shows the same trenchant, effective 
way of dealing with his story ; and the same power in open, startling situations. It will 
jive the reader some new idea of that ancient people, the Aztecs, as well as of the more mod- 
rn Mexicans. It is as strong as ‘King Solomon’s Mines.’ ” — Times, Hartford. 


LONGMANS, GREEN, & 00., 91-93 FIFTH AYE., NEW YORK. 


DAUGHTER. 


MONTEZUMA’S 

By H. RIDER HAGGARD, 

AUTHOR OF “ SHE,” “ ALLAN QUATERMAIN,” “ NADA THE LILY,” ETC. 

With 24 full-page Illustrations and Vignette by Maurice 
Greif fenhagen. Crown 8vo, Cloth, $1.25. 


“Adventures that stir the reader’s blood and, like magic spells, hold his attention with 
power so strong that only the completion of the novel can satisfy his interest. ... In 
this novel the motive of revenge is treated with a subtle power . . . this latest production 

of Mr. Haggard blends with the instruction of the historical novel the charm of a splendid 
romance.” — Public Opinion. 

“ Mr. Haggard has done nothing better ... it may well be doubted if he has ever 
done anything half so good. The tale is one of the good, old-fashioned sort, filled with the 
elements of romance and adventure, and it moves on from one thrilling situation to another 
with a celerity and verisimilitude that positively fascinate the reader. . . . The story is 

told with astonishing variety of detail, and in its main lines keeps close to historical truth. 
The author has evidently written with enthusiasm and entire love of his theme, and the result 
is areally splendid piece of romantic literature. The illustrations, by Maurice Greiffenhagen, 
are admirable in spirit and technique.” — Boston Beacon. 

“ Has a good deal of the quality that lent such interest to ‘ King Solomon’s Mines ’ and 
‘Allan Quatermain.’ . . . England, Spain, and the country which is now Mexico afford 

the field of the story, and a great number of most romantic and blood-stirring activities occur 
in each ... a successful story well constructed, full of devious and exciting action, 
and we believe that it will find a multitude of appreciative readers.” — Sun, N. Y. 

* It is a tale of adventure and romance, with a fine historical setting and with a vivid 
reproduction of the manners and people of the age. The plot is handled with dexterity and 
skill, and the reader’s interest is always seen. There is, it should also be noted, nothing like 
mlgar sensationalism in the treatment, and the literary quality is sound throughout. 

Among the very best stories of love, war, and romance that have been written.” 

— The Outlook. 


“ Is the latest and best of that popular writer’s works of fiction. It enters a new 
field not before touched by previous tales from the same author. In its splendor of % descrip- 
tion, weirdness of imagery, and wealth of startling incidents it rivals ‘ King Solomon’s Mines ’ 
and other earlier stories, but shows superior strength in many respects, and presents novelty 
of scene that must win new and more enduring fame for its talented creator. . . . The 

analysis of human motives and emotions is more subtle in this work than in any previous 
production by Mr. Haggard. The story will generally be accorded highest literary rank 
among the author’s works, and will prove of fascinating interest to a host of readers.” 

— Minneapolis Spectator. 


“ Is full of the magnificence of the Aztec reign, and is quite as romantic and unbelievable 
as the most fantastic of his earlier creations.” — Book Buyer. 


“ We should be disposed to rank this volume next to ‘ King Solomon's Mines ’ in order 
of interest and merit among the author’s works.” — Literary World, Boston. 

“ It is decidedly the most powerful and enjoyable book that Mr. Rider Haggard has 
written, with the single exception of ‘ Jess.’ ” — Academy. 

“ Mr. Haggard has rarely done anything better than this romantic and interesting narra' 
tive. Throughout the story we are hurried from one thrilling experience to another, and the 
whole book is written at a level of sustained passion, which gives it a very absorbing hold on 
our imagination. A special word of praise ought to be given to the excellent illustrations.” 

„ , , , - „ , , , . — Daily Telegraph. 

Perhaps the best or all the authors stones. 

The great distinguishing quality of Rider Haggard is this magic power of seizing and 
holding his readers so that they become absorbed and abstracted from all earthly things while 
their eyes devour the page. ... A romance must have ‘grip.’ . . . This romance 

possesses the quality of * grip’ in an eminent degree.” — Walter Besant in the Author. 


“ The story is both graphic and exciting, . . . and tells of the invasion of Cortes ; 

but there are antecedent passages in England and Spain, for the hero is an English adven- 
turer who finds his way through Spain to Mexico on a vengeful quest. The vengeance is cer- 
tainly satisfactory, but it is not reached until the hero has had as surprising a series of perils 
And ^scapes as even the fertile imagination of the author ever devised.” — Dial, Chicago. 


LONGMANS, GKEEN, & 00., 91-93 PIETH AVE., NEW YORK 


JOAN HASTE 

A NOVEL. 

By H. RIDER HAGGARD, 

AUTHOR OF “ SHE,” “ HEART OF THE WORLD,” “ THE PEOPLE OF THE MIST,” ETC., ETC 

With 20 full-page Illustrations by F. S. Wilson. 
12mo, Cloth, Ornamental, $1.25. 


“ It is less adventurous in theme, the tone is more quiet, and the manner more 
in keeping with the so-called realistic order of fiction than anything Mr. Haggard has 
heretofore published. ‘ Joan Haste ’ is by far the most earnest, and in many ways the 
most impressive work of Mr. Haggard’s that has yet been printed. The insight into 
character which it displays is almost invariably keen and true. Every personality in 
the story is fully alive, and individual traits of thought and action are revealed little 
by little as the narrative progresses, until they stand forth as definite and consistent 
creations.”— The Boston Beacon. 

“All the strong and striking peculiarities that have made Mr. Haggard’s earlier 
works so deservedly popular are repeated here in a new spirit. Not only that, but 
his literary execution shows an enlarged skill and betrays the master-hand of self- 
restraint that indicate maturity of power. His conception of character is improved by 
the elimination of all crudeness and haste, and his delineations are consequently closer 
to life. One is reminded strongly of Dickens in his admirable drawing of minor char- 
acters. Mrs. Bird is such a character. . . . The illustrations of the book are nu- 
merous and strikingly good. Many of the scenes are intensely dramatic, and move the 
feelings to the higher pitch. . . . Even in the little concerns of the story the wealth 

of its imagination appears, glowing in the warmth of its unstinted creations. There is 
a splendor in his description, a weird spirit in his imagery, a marvelous variety of 
detail, and at all points a creative force that give a perpetual freshness and newness to 
the fiction to which he gives his powers. To take up one of his fascinating books is 
to finish it, and this story of ‘Joan Haste ’ is not to be outdone by the best of them all. 
The strength, emphasis, and vigor of his style as well as of his treatment is to be 
credited to none but superior gifts and powers. . . . ‘Joan Haste’ will become 
the favorite of everybody.” —Boston Courier. 

“ Mr. Haggard’s new story is a sound and pleasing example of modern English 
fiction ... a book worth reading. ... Its personages are many and well 
contrasted, and all reasonably human and interesting.” — New York Times. 

“ In this pretty, pathetic story Mr. Haggard has lost none of his true art. . . . 
In every respect ‘Joan Haste’ contains masterly literary work of which Mr. Haggard 
has been deemed incapable by some of his former critics. Certainly no one will call 
his latest book weak or uninteresting, while thousands who enjoy a well-told story of 
tragic, but true love, will pronounce ‘Joan Haste’ a better piece of work than Mr. 
Haggard’s stories of adventure.” — Boston Advertiser. 

“ This story is full of startling incidents. It is intensely interesting.” 

—Cleveland Gazette. 

“ The plot thickens with the growth of the story, which is one of uncommon interest 
and pathos. The book has the advantage of the original illustrations.” 

— Cleveland World. 

“‘Joan Haste’ is really a good deal more than the ordinary novel of English 
country life. It is the best thing Haggard has done. There is some character sketch- 
ing in it that is equal to anything of this kind we have had recently.” 

— Courier, Lincoln, Neb. 

“ In this unwonted field he has done well. ‘Joan Haste ’ is so far ahead of his for- 
mer works that it will surprise even those who have had most confidence in his ability. 

To those who read Thomas Hardy’s ‘Tess of the D’Urbervilles ’ the atmosphere 
and incidents of ‘Joan Haste ’ will seem familiar. It is written along much the same 
lines, and in this particular it might be accused of a lack of originality; but Haggard 
harcome dangerously close to beating Hardy in his own field. Hardy’s coarseness is 
missing, but Hardy’s power is excelled.” — Munsey’s Magazine. 


LONGMANS, GREEN, & 00., 91-93 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW TORE. 


THE 


PEOPLE OF THE MIST. 

By H. RIDER HAGGARD, 

AUTHOR OF “ SHE,” “ ALLAN QUATERMAIN,” “ MONTEZUMA’S DAUC&tTER,” ETC., ETC. 

With 16 full-page Illustrations by Arthur Layard. Crown 
8vo, cloth, ornamental, $1.25. 


“ Out of Africa, as all men know, the thing that is new is ever forthcoming. The ol(* 
style is true with regard to Mr. Haggard's romances, and everybody concerned is to be con 
gratulated upon the romancer’s return to the magical country where lies the land of Kor. 
Africa is Mr. Haggard’s heaven of invention. Let him be as prodigal as he may, thence 
flows an exhaustless stream of romance, rich in wonders new and astonishing. ‘ The People 
of the Mist ’ belongs to the sphere of ‘ She ’ in its imaginative scope, and, as an example of 
the story-teller’s art, must be reckoned of the excellent company of ‘ King Solomon's 
Mines ’ and its brethren. We read it at one spell, as it were, hardly resisting that effect of 
fascination which invites you, at the critical moments of the story, to plunge ahead at r 
venture to know what is coming, and be resolved as to some harrowing doubt of dilemma. 
There is no better test of the power of a story than this. . . ." — Saturday Review. 

“ The lawyer, the physician, the business man, the teacher, find in these novels, teem- 
ing with life and incident, precisely the medicine to rest tired brains and * to take them out 01 
themselves.’ There is, perhaps, no writer of this present time whose works are read more 
generally and with keener pleasure. The mincing words, the tedious conversations, the 
prolonged agony of didactic discussion, characteristic of the ordinary novel of the time, find 
no place in the crisp, bright, vigorous pages of Mr. Haggard’s books. . . . ‘ The People 

of the Mist’ is what we expect and desire from the pen of this writer ... a deeply 
interesting novel, a fitting companion to ‘ Allan Quatermain.’ ” — Public Opinion. 

“ The story of the combat between the dwarf Otter and the huge ‘ snake,’ a crocodile 
of antediluvian proportions, and the following account of the escape of the Outram party, 
is one of the best pieces of dramatic fiction which Mr. Haggard has ever written.” — Bos- 
ton Advertiser. 

“ One of his most ingenious fabrications of marvellous adventure, and so skilfully is it 
done that the reader loses sight of the improbability in the keen interest of the tale. Two 
loving and beautiful women figure in the narrative, and in his management of the heroine 
and her rival the author shows his originality as well as in the sensational element which is 
his peculiar province.” — Boston Beacon. 

“ ‘ The People of the Mist ’ is the best novel he has written since * She,’ and it runs 
that famous romance very close indeed. The dwarf Otter is fully up to the mark of Rider 
Haggard’s best character, and his fight with the snake god is as powerful as anything the 
author has written. The novel abounds in striking scenes and incidents, and the read- 
er’s interest is never allowed to flag. The attack on the slave kraal and the rescue of Juanna 
are in Mr. Haggard’s best vein.” — Charleston News. 

“ It has all the dash and go of Haggard’s other tales of adventure, and few readers will 
be troubled over the impossible things in the story as they follow the exciting exploits of the 
hero and his redoubtable dwarf Otter. . . . Otter is a character worthy to be classed 

with Umslopogus, the great Zulu warrior. Haggard has never imagined anything more ter- 
ror-inspiring than the adventures of Leonard and his party in the awful palace of the Chil 
dren of Mist, nor has he ever described a more thrilling combat than that between the dwai. 
and the huge water snake in the sacred pool.” — San Francisco Chronicle. 

“ It displays all of this popular author’s imagery, power to evoke and combine miraculous 
incidents, and skill in analyzing human motives and emotions in the most striking manner. 
He is not surpassed by any modern writer of fiction for vividness of description or keenness 
of perception and boldness of characterization. The reader will find here the same qualities 
in full measure that stamped ‘ King Solomon’s Mines,’ ‘J ess / ‘ She,’ and his other earlier 
romances with their singular power. The narrative is a series of scenes and pictures ; the 
events are strange to the verge of ghoulishness ; the action of the story is tireless, and the 
reader is held as with a grip not to be shaken off.” — Boston Courier. 

“ Sometimes we are reminded of 1 King Solomon’s Mines * and sometimes of ‘ She,’ but the 
mixture has the same elements of interest, dwells in the same strange land of mystery and 
adventure, and appeals to the same public that buys and reads Mr. Haggard’s works for the 
sake of the rapid adventure, the strong handling of improbable incident, and the fascination 
of the supernatural.” — B altimore Sun. 


LONGMANS, GKEEN, & CO., 91-93 ilETH AYE., NEW YOKE. 


THE WIZARD. 

By H. RIDER HAGGARD, 

AUTHOR OF “SHE,” “ KING SOLOMON’S MINES,” “ JOAN HASTE,” ETC., ETC. 


With 1 9 full-page Illustrations by Charles Kerr. 
Crown 8vo, Cloth, Ornamental, $1.25. 

“ I owe an exciting-, delightful evening once more to a pen— say a voice — which 
has held me a willing prisoner in a grasp of iron. It is now ten years ago, I think, 
since I gave Mr. Rider Haggard my opinion that for the rest of his life he would have 
‘She’ always with him to be compared with what might follow. That incomparable 
romance, indeed, has never been surpassed by any living writer. Rider Haggard is 
the possessor of an imagination stronger, more vivid, more audacious than is found in 
any other writer of the time. I say this in order to introduce his latest work, 1 The 
Wizard.’ It is only a short tale — too short — but it shows imaginative power that makes 
it worthy to follow after ‘ She.’ ” — Sir Walter Besant, in “ The Queen.” 

“ The scene of this thrilling story is laid in Africa, but in many respects it is a new 
departure for the writer. . . . has never written anything more pathetic or with 

greater force than this tale of a missionary venture and a martyr’s death. The ‘ Pass- 
ing Over ’ is told with a simple beauty of language which recalls the last passages in 
the life of the martyred Bishop Hannington. As for the improbabilities, well, they are 
cleverly told, and we are not afraid to say that we rather like them ; but Haggard has 
never achieved a conception so beautiful as that of Owen, or one that he has clothed 
with so great a semblance of life.” — Pacific Churchman, San Francisco. 

“ ‘ The Wizard ’ is one of his most vivid and brilliant tales. Miracles are no new 
things in the frame-work used by the writers of fiction, but no one has attempted just 
the use of them which Haggard makes in this novel. It is so entirely new, so abso- 
lutely in line with the expressed beliefs of devout folk everywhere, that it ought to 
strike a responsive chord in the popular heart as did * Ben Hur,’ and should be equally 
successful.” — Brooklyn Daily Eagle. 


“ Mr. Haggard gives full play in the history of the conversion of the Son of Fire 
to his strong imagination, and he has succeeded admirably in conveying an earnest 
religious lesson, while telling one of his most exciting and entertaining stories.” 

— Beacon, Boston. 


“It is to be read at one sitting, without resisting that fascination which draws you 
on from one to another critical moment of the story, to resolve some harrowing doubt 
or dilemma. . . . Hokosa, the wizard, whose art proved at first so nearly fatal to 

the messenger’s cause, and whose devilish plots resulted finally in conversion and 
Christianity, is one of Mr. Haggard’s best creations. _ The portrait has a vigor and 
picturesqueness comparable to that of' Allan Quatermain.’ ” 

— Picayune, New Orleans. 

* It has all the spirit and movement of this popular author’s finest work.” 

—Evening Bulletin, Philadelphia. 


“ A brilliant story truly, and here and there alive with enthusiasm and fire. Mr- 
Haggard describes savage combats with rare skill, and, somehow, we revel with hirr 
when he shows us legion after legion of untamed children of nature fighting to the grim 
death with uncouth weapons yet with as dauntless a courage as the best trained soldiers 
of Europe It may be wrong for him to stir up our savage instincts, but, after all, £ 
healthv animalism is not to be scoffed at in any breed of men.”— New York Herald. 


“ Is as full of adventure as the most ardent admirer of tales of courage and daring 
could desire. As its title implies, it portrays a character who is an adept in witch- 
craft cunning, and knowledge of human nature. There is a distinct religious element 
throughout the book ; indeed, but for its religious motive there would be no story. 

& — St. Louis Republican. 


LONGMANS, GEEEN, & 00., 91-93 FIFTH AVE., NEW YORK. 


THE JEWEL OF YNYS GALON j 

BEING A HITHERTO UNPRINTED CHAPTER IN 
THE HISTORY OF THE SEA ROVERS. 

By OWEN RHOSCOMYL. 

With 12 Illustrations by Lancelot Speed. 

Crown 8vo, Cloth, Ornamental, $1.25. 


“ The tale is exceptionally well told ; the descriptive passages are strong and viv- 
id without being over-elaborated ; and the recital of fights and adventures on sea and 
land is thrilling, without leading to any excess of horrors. The characters in the book 
are not all villians, but the progress of the narrative is lighted up by the ideals and 
strivings of brave and honorable men. The book is certainly a most attractive addi- 
tion to fiction of adventure, for it shows a fine degree of imagination on the part of the 
author. A glance at the illustrations by Lancelot Speed will alone be enough to incite 
a reading of the story from beginning to end.’’ — The Beacon, Boston. 

“ It is a work of genius — of the romantic-realistic school. The story is one of 
pirates and buried treasure in an island off the coast of Wales, and so well is it done 
that it fascinates the reader, putting him under an hypnotic spell, lasting long after the 
book has been laid aside. It is dedicated to ‘every one whose blood rouses at a tale 
of tall fights and reckless adventure,’ to men and boys alike, yet there will be keener 
appreciation by the boys of larger growth, whose dreams ‘ of buried treasure and of 
one day discovering some hoard whereby to become rich beyond imagination ’ have 
become dim and blurred in the ‘toil and struggle for subsistence.’ ‘ The Jewel of Ynys 
Galon’ is one of the great books of 1895 and will live long.” — The World, New York. 

“ It is a splendid story of the sea, of battle and hidden treasure. This picture of 
the times of the sea rovers is most skillfully drawn in transparent and simple English, 
and it holds from cover to cover the absorbed interest of the reader.” 

— Press, Philadelphia. 

“ It is a story after the heart of both man and boy. There are no dull moments in 
it, and we find ourselves impatient to get on, so anxious are we to see what the next 
turn in the events is to bring forth ; and when we come to the end we exclaim in 
sorrow, “ Is that all ? ” and begin to turn back the leaves and re-read some of the most 
exciting incidents. 

Owen Rhoscomyl has just the talents for writing books of this kind, and they are 
worth a dozen of some of the books of to-day where life flows sluggishly on in a draw- 
ing-room. When the author writes another we want to know of it.” — Times, Boston. 

"The style of this thrilling story is intensely vivid and dramatic, but there is 
nothing in it of the cheap sensational order. It is worthy a place among the classics 
for boys.” — Advertiser, Boston. 

“ The present school of romantic adventure has produced no more strikingly im- 
aginative story than this weird tale of Welsh pirates in the eighteenth century. . . . 

A most enthralling tale, . . . told with great artistic finish and with intense spirit. 
It may be recommended without reserve to every lover of this class of fiction.” 

— Times, Philadelphia. 

“ It is one of the best things of its kind that have appeared in a long time. . . . 
We do not know how far this tale may be taken to be historical, and, to be frank, 
we don’t care. If these things did not happen, thev might have happened, and ought 
to have happened, and that is enough for us. If you like ‘ Treasure Island ’ and 
‘Kidnapped’ and the ‘White Company’ and ‘ Francis Cludde ’ and ‘ Lorna Doone,’ 
get ‘ The Jewel of Ynys Galon ’ and read it. You will not be disappointed.” 

— Gazette, Colorado Springs, Col. 

“ Our own interest in the book led us to read it at a sitting that went far into the 
night. The old Berserker spirit is considerably abroad in these pages, and the blood 
coursed the faster as stirring incident followed desperate situation and daring enter- 
prise.”— Literary World, London. 


LONGMANS, GREEN, & 00., 91-93 PIPTH AVE., NEW YORE, 


BATTLEMENT AND TOWER. 

A ROMANCE. 

By OWEN RHOSCOMYL, 

AUTHOR OF “THE JEWEL OF YNYS GALON.” 


With Frontispiece by R. Caton Woodville. 12mo, Cloth, 

Ornamental, $1.25. 


“ It is a rare tale of the wars of the Commonwealth. The hero, Howel, is a young 
Welsh lord whose father gives him his hereditary sword and shield, and sends him to 
battle for the king. His adventures in love and war are intensely fascinating, and the 
reader puts down the book with extreme reluctance. The author has carefully studied 
the history of the times, and, besides being a thrilling tale, his story is a charming 
picture of the manners and customs of the day. It is a book well worth reading.” 

— New Orleans Picayune. 

“ . . . a powerful romance by Owen Rhoscomyl of the swashbuckling days in 
North Wales, when the Roundheads warred against the Cavaliers, and Charles I. of 
England lost his head, both metaphorically and literally. . . . The picturesque 

and virile style of the author, and the remarkable power he displays in his character 
drawing, place his book among the notable pieces of fiction of the year. There is 
plenty of fighting, hard riding, love-making, and blood-letting in the story, but the 
literary touch given to his work by the author places his product far above the average 
of the many tales of like character that are now striving to satisfy the present demand 
for fiction that has power without prurience.” — World, New York. 

“ There is a vein of very pretty romance which runs through the more stirring 
scenes of battle and of siege. The novel is certainly to be widely read by those who 
love the tale of a well-fought battle and of gallant youth in the days when men carved 
their way to fame and fortune with a sword.” — Advertiser, Boston. 

“ . . . a rattling story of adventure, privation, and peril in the wild Welsh 

marches during the English civil war. ... In this stirring narrative Mr. Rhos- 
comyl has packed away a great deal of entertainment for people who like exciting 
fiction.”— Commercial Advertiser, New York. 

" There is a flavor of old world chivalry in his tempestuous wooing of winsome, 
imperious Barbara, a charming love idyl. . . . The hot blood of the Welshman 

leads him into many and diverse dangers, yet so gallant is he, so quick of wit, and 
with band ever on sword hilt, that one accompanies him with unflagging attention. . . . 
The scenes of the story are historic, and the author’s fertile and ingenious imagination 
has constructed a thrilling tale in which the dramatic situations crowd thick and fast 
upon each other.” — Free Press, Detroit. 

“ Owen Rhoscomyl, who wrote an excellent tale when he penned ‘ The Jewel of 
Ynys Galon,’ has followed it with another, different in kind but its equal in 
degree. . . . Deals with an entirely different phase of Welsh legend from his 
former story, for it enters the domain of history. ... It is full of merit, and is 
entitled to pass muster as one of the successful novels of the season. ... The plot 
is involved, and there is a mystery in it which is not wrought out until the concluding 
chapters. . . . The story will appeal strongly to the lover of romance and ad- 

venture.” — Brooklyn Eagle. 

“ He calls his book a ‘mosaic,’ and if such it be its stones are the quaint customs, 
strange ways, and weird legends of the Welsh, welded by strong and clear diction and 
colored with the pigments of a brilliant fancy. Gay pleasures, stern war, and true love 
are powerfully portrayed, rivalling each other in the interest of the reader. And 
though the heroes and their castles have Dug been buried beneath the dust of time, 
this writer sends an electric current through his pages making every actor and his sur- 
roundings alive again. He brings each successive phase of adventure, love, or battle, 
before the imagination, clad in language that impresses itself upon the memory and 
makes the book fascinating.” — Republican, Denver. 

“ His story is a stirring one, full of events, alive with action, and gilded with sen- 
timent of romance.” — Courier, Boston. 


LONGMANS, GREEN, & 00., 91-93 FIFTH AYE., NEW YORK. 


FOR THE WHITE ROSE OF ARNO 

A Story of the Jacobite Rising of 1 745 

By OWEN RHOSCOMYL 

AUTHOR OF “THE JEWEL OF YNYS GALON,” “ BATTLEMENT AND TOWER,” 

ETC. 


Crown 8vo, cloth, ornamental, $1.25 


“ His ‘Jewel of Ynys Galon,’ was a splendid story of piracy on the Welsh coast. 
His ‘ Battlement and Tower ’ was a good story of Prince Rupert’s day. ... A third 
romance, ‘ For the White Rose of Arno,’ a story of the Jacobite rising of 1745, is pic- 
turesque and exciting. It can be recommended to every lover of a fine romantic melo- 
drama.”— Express, Buffalo, N.Y. 

“ There are plenty of stirring events in the story, love, treachery, and revenge 
fighting at cross-purposes. One of the most graphic descriptions is that of the wed- 
ding of the hero and heroine. Mr. Rhoscomyl has a picturesque imagination, and he 
paints vividly with bold, true strokes. . . . The author has studied the period of 

which he writes with great care. He has not allowed his imagination to run away 
with historical facts, and the book will appeal not only to lovers of romance and adven- 
ture, but to students of English history.”— Gazette, Colorado Springs. 

“The ‘ White Rose of Arno ’ will delight all lovers of a good romantic novel.” 

— Eagle, Brooklyn, N.Y. 

“ ... in this tale we are given a most stirring picture of the time of Charles 

Edward, the Pretender, and his devoted supporters. Nearly all of the incidents take 
place amid the hills and vales of beautiful Wales, and the contrast between scenery 
and wild human passions does much to heighten the effect of the story, which is very 
well told. The author is a Welshman, and the scenes he depicts one feels still burn 
within his soul ; hence his narrative is in the highest degree animated and forceful.” 

— Evening Transcript, Boston. 

“ . . . The story never lags for a moment, nor sags from its pitch of high 
heroism . . . Some of the scenes rival those others, well known, and, indeed, 
famous in ‘David Balfour,’ and ‘Kidnapped.’ . . . It is a splendid story. . . . 

Prince Charles figures more as a shadow in the background than a leader, but he im- 
presses himself vividly as a great personal inspiration.” — Times-Herald, Chicago. 

“Owen Rhoscomyl has already written some rare stories of the wars of the Com- 
monwealth that have met with a splendid showing of practical appreciation by a 
world-wide circle of readers. This latest novel by the pleasing Welsh w r riter is one of 
the most powerful romances that have emanated from his pen, and will doubtless re- 
ceive as graceful a welcome to fiction literature as his previous efforts have done. It 
is a stirring story of Wales when the Roundheads were warring against the cavaliers, 
and Charles I of England lost his head and his coveted throne. The story is brimful 
of fighting, of hard travel and riding, and old-time love making, and the flavor of old 
world chivalry in the tenderer portions of the novel is charming and complete. With 
the pen of a realist, the author hurries his readers back to live over the dead, old wars, 
to dwell in strange Welsh castles that long ago crumbled into dust, and to view the 
history and romances of those early days as something tangible with our own exist- 
ences. The style is always active, virile and picturesque, and there is not a dull or 
tame chapter in the book.” — Courier, Boston. 

“ The story is told wfith spirit, and holds the attention without effort. The action 
is swift, the episodes stirring, the character drawing admirable, and the style good. 
The ultimate defeat of the Pretender, and the final denouement are tragic in their 
intensity, and powerfully pictured.” — Brooklyn Times. 

'* This is a really stirring story, full of wild adventure, yet having an atmosphere 
of historic truthfulness, and conveying incidentally a good deal of information that is 
evidently based upon fresh study.”— Times, Philadelphia. 


LONGMANS, GREEN, & 00., 91-93 PIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK 


THE CHEVALIER D’AURIAC. 

A ROMANCE. 

By S. LEVETT YEATS. 

AUTHOR OF “THE HONOUR OF SAVELLI,” ETC., ETC. 

1 2mo, cloth, ornamental, $1 .25. 


“The story is full of action, it is alive from cover to cover, and is so compact with thrill- 
ing adventure that there is no room for a dull page. The chevalier tells his own story, but 
he is the most charming of egoists. He wins our sympathies from the outset by his boyish 
naivete, his downright manliness and bravery. . . . Not only has Mr. Yeats written an 

excellent tale of adventure, but he has shown a close study of character which does not bor- 
row merely from the trappings of historical actors, but which denotes a keen knowledge of 
human nature, and a shrewd insight into the workings of human motives. . . . The 
fashion of the period is kept well in mind, the style of writing has just that touch of old- 
fashioned formality which serves to veil the past from the present, and to throw the lights 
and shadows into a harmony of tone. . . . The work has literary quality of a genuine 

sort in it, which raises it above a numerous host of its fellows in kind.” 

— Bookman, New York. 

“ . . . A story of Huguenot days, brim full of action that takes shape in plots, sud- 

den surprises, fierce encounters, and cunning intrigues. The author is so saturated with the 
times of which he writes that the story is realism itself. . . . The story is brilliant and 

thrilling, and whoever sits down to give it attention will reach the last page with regret.” 

—Globe, Boston. 

“ A tale of more than usual interest and of genuine literary merit. . . . 

The characters and scenes in a sense seem far removed, yet they live in our hearts and seem 
contemporaneous through the skill and philosophic treatment of the author. Those men and 
women seem akin to us ; they are flesh and blood, and are impelled by human motives as we 
are. One cannot follow the fortunes of this hero wdthout feeling refreshed and benefited.” 

— Globe-Democrat, St. Louis. 

“ A book that may be recommended to all those who appreciate a good, hearty, rollicking 
story of adventure, with lots of fierce fighting and a proper proportion of love-making. . . . 

There is in his novel no more history than is necessary, and no tedious detail ; it is a story 
inspired by, but not slavishly following, history. . . . The book is full of incident, and 

from the first chapter to the last the action never flags. ... In the Chevalier the author 
has conceived a sympathetic character, for d’Auriac is more human and less of a puppet than 
most heroes of historical novels, and consequently there are few readers who will not find en- 
joyment in the story of his thrilling adventures. . . . This book should be read by all 

who love a good story of adventures. There is not a dull page in it.” — New York Sun. 

“ A capital story of the Dumas-Weyman order. . . . The first chapters bring one 

right into the thick of the story, and from thence on the interest is unflagging. The Cheva- 
lier himself is an admirably studied character, whose straightforwardness and simplicity, 
bravery, and impulsive and reckless chivalry, win the reader’s sympathy. D’Auriac has 
something of the intense vitality of Dumas’s heroes, and the delightful improbabilities through 
which he passes so invincibly have a certain human quality which renders them akin to our 
day. Mr. Levett Yeats has done better in this book than in anything else he has written.” 

— Picayune, New Orleans. 

“The interest in the story does not lag for an instant; all is life and action. The pict- 
uresque historical setting is admirably painted, and the characters are skilfully drawn, espe- 
cially that of the king, a true monarch, a brave soldier, and a gentleman. The Chevalier is 
the typical hero of romance, fearing nothing save a stain on his honor, and with such a hero 
there can not but be vigor and excitement in every page of the story.” 

— Mail and Express, New York. 

“ As a story of adventure, pure and simple, after the type originally seen in Dumas’s 
‘Three Musketeers,’ the book is well worthy of high praise.” — Outlook, New York. 

“ We find all the fascination of mediaeval France, which have made Mr. Weyman’s stories 
such general favorites. . . . We do not see how any intelligent reader can take it up 

without keen enjoyment.” — Living Church, Chicago. 


LONGMANS, GREEN, & CO., 91-93 FIFTH AYE., NEW YORK. 


THE PRINCESS DESIREE 

A ROMANCE 

By CLEMENTINA BLACK 

AUTHOR OF “an AGITATOR,” “ MISS FALKLAND,” ETC. 

With 8 Full-page Illustrations by John Williamson 
i2mo, Linen Cloth, Ornamental, $1.25 


“The reader who begins this very fascinating tale will feel bound to finish it. . 

. . . The story runs naturally in a highly romantic vein. It is, however, so brightly 
and choicely written and is so interesting throughout, as to be to the reader a source 
of real delight.” — Aberdeen Daily Free Press. 

“ Miss Black may be congratulated on achieving a distinct success and furnishing 
a thoroughly enjoyable tale.” — Athenaeum, London. 

“ Is a romantic story of the adventures of the heiress to a pretty German princi- 
pality. It has a pure love story, and is written with spirit.” — Outlook, New York. 

“ There is plenty of intrigue and royal family affairs, and those who love a his- 
torical novel will enjoy this one. It has the air of being founded on facts.” — Com- 
mercial Tribune, Cincinnati. 

“ Once in a while there appears a novel that, without manifesting any special 
originality, yet leaves with its reader a sense of satisfaction that many more im- 
portant works fail to give. Such a story is the “ Princess Desiree/’ — Buffalo 
Express. 

“The story is thoroughly satisfactory, it contains little sentiment but many inter- 
esting situations, and much forceful action. It is told with a directness that attracts 
in these busy days and is an admirable picture of French and German intrigue. It is 
well illustrated and bound.” — Boston Times. 

“This readable novel may be read at a sitting with unflagging in- 

terest.” — Public Ledger, Philadelphia. 

“ The plot is exceedingly well managed, in spite of its demands upon the credulity 
of the reader, and the author’s style is terse, clear cut, and piquant. The eight full- 
page illustrations by John Williamson are cleverly done.” — Boston Beacon. 

“A brightly written story, full of unusual adventure of a quasi-political nature. 
. . . Is entertaining reading throughout.” — Press, Philadelphia. 

“A vivacious novel.” — Public Opinion, New York. 

“ It is amusing in the picture it gives of the sudden change of an ardent Republi- 
can, through love for one of the royal race, to a Monarchist. There is a pleasant 
freshness of tone about it, and Ludovic De Sainte is quite as worthy of the Grand 
Duchess of Felsenheim as was Rudolph of the Princess Fluvia. The political intrigue 
is simple yet very exciting and effective. There is no effort at high tragedy, but the 
plot is simply and skillfully developed and holds interest well. . . . Altogether, it 

is a brave story, and you will like to read it.” — Nassau Literary Magazine, Prince- 
ton, N. J. 

“The Princess Ddsir^e .... will win universal praise. It is one of the 
most charming love stories that have been published of late years, pure and optimistic, 
reminding us, but by no means as a servile imitation, of another lady, the romantic 
‘ Princess Osra ’ whose heart, or want of heart, was so ably described by Mr. 
Anthony Hope.” — Star, Montreal. 

“Except that there is nothing in it that is either supernatural or essentially im- 
probable, it has much of the charm of a fairy tale. The style is pure and the story 

dramatic with the additional attraction. of eight or ten well executed illustrations. 

San Francisco Chronicle. 

“ There is enough exciting interest in 1 The Princess Ddsiree ’ to make one wish 
to read it through as soon as possible , . . . . There is an undesirable charm in 
the narrative.”— New York Commercial Advertiser. 


LONGMANS, GREEN & CO., 91-93 FIFTH AVE., NEW YORK 


WHAT NECESSITY KNOWS. 

A Novel of Canadian Life and Character. 

By MISS L. DOUGALL, 

AUTHOR OF “ BEGGARS ALL.” 

Crown 8vo, Cloth, $1.00. 

“A very remarkable novel, and not a book that can be lightly classified or ranged with 
Other modern works of fiction. . . . It is a distinct creation ... a structure ol 

DODle ana original design and of grand and dignified conception. . . . The book bristles 

with epigrammatic sayings which one would like to remember. ... It will appeal 
strongly by force of its originality and depth of insight and for the eloquence and dignity of 
style m the descriptive passages.”— Manchester Guardian, London. 

‘‘We think we are well within the mark in saying that this novel is one of the three or 
four best novels of the year. The social atmosphere as well as the external conditions of 
Canadian life are reproduced faithfully. The author is eminently thoughtful, yet the story 
is not distinctively one of moral purpose. The play of character and the clash of purpose are 
finely wrought out. . . . What gives the book its highest value is really the author’s 

deep knowledge of motive and character. The reader continually comes across keen obser- 
vations and subtle expressions that not infrequently recall George Eliot. The novel is one 
that is worth reading a second time.”— Outlook, New York. 

“ Keen analysis, deeu spiritual insight, and a quick sense of beauty in nature and 
human nature are combined to put before us a drama of human life ... the book is not 
only interesting but stimulating, not only strong but suggestive, and we may say of the 
writer, in Sidney Lanier’s words, ‘ She shows man what he may be in terms of what he is. ,n 

—Literary World, Boston. 


BEGGARS ALL. 

A NOVEL. 

By MISS L. D OUGALL. 

Sixth Edition. 12mo, Cloth, Ornamental, $1.00. 

“ This is one of the strongest as well as most original romances of the year. . . . The 

plot is extraordinary. . . . The close of the story is powerful and natural. ... A 

masterpiece of restrained and legitimate dramatic fiction.’’ — Literary World. 

“To say that ‘ Beggars All’ is a remarkable novel is to put the case mildly indeed, for 
it is one of the most original, discerning, and thoroughly philosophical presentations of 
character that has appeared in English for many a day. . . . Emphatically a novel 
that thoughtful people ought to read . . . the perusal of it will by many be reckoned 
among the intellectual experiences that are not easily forgotten.” — Boston Beacon. 

“ A story of thrilling interest.” — Home Journal. 

“ A very unusual quality of novel. It is written with ability ; it tells a strong story with 
elaborate analysis of character and motive . . . it is of decided interest and worth 

reading.” — Commercial Advertiser, N. Y. 

“ It is moje than a story for mere summer reading, but deserves a permanent place 
among the best works of modern fiction. The author has struck a vein of originality purely 
her own. . . . It is tragic, pathetic, humerous by turns. . . . Miss Dougall has, in 

fact, scored a great success. Her book is artistic, realistic, intensely dramatic — in fact, one 
of the novels of the year.” — Boston Traveller. 

“ ‘Beggars AH’ is a noble work of art, but is also something more and something better. 
It is a book with a soul in it, and in a sense, therefore, it may be described as an inspired 
work. The inspiration of genius may or may not be lacking to it, but the inspiration of a 

f >ure and beautiful spirituality pervades it completely . . . the characters are truth- 

ully and powerfully drawn, the situations finely imagined, and the story profoundly 
interesting.” — Chicago Tribune. i 


LONGMANS, GREEN, & 00., 91-93 FIFTH AYE., NEW YORK. 


FLOTSAM. 

* 

THE STUDY OF A LIFE. 

By HENRY SETON MERRIMAN, 

AUTHOR OF “WITH EDGED TOOLS,” “ THE SOWERS,” ETC. 

With Frontispiece and Vignette by H. G. MASSEY. 
1 2mo, Cloth, Ornamental, $1.25. 


“ The scene of this thoroughly interesting book is laid at the time of the great 
Indian mutiny of 1857, and the chapters devoted to that terrible episode in the history 
of English rule in India are among the most interesting in the volume, the capture of 
Delhi in particular being graphically described.’’ — Herald, Oneonta, N. Y. 

“ It is a powerful study.”— C incinnati Commercial Gazette. 

“ One of the strongest novels of the season.”— Boston Advertiser. 

“It is decidedly a novel worth reading.”— N ew England Magazine. 

“ . . . From first to last our interest in the dramatic development of the plot is 

never allowed to flag. ‘ Flotsam ’ will amply sustain the reputation which Mr. 
Merriman has won.”— Charleston News and Courier. 

“ It is a rather stirring story, dealing with breezy adventures in the far East, and 
sketching in strong outlines some very engaging phases of romance in India not down 
in Mr. Kipling’s note-books.”— Independent, New York. 

“ It is a novel of strong, direct, earnest purpose, which begins well in a literary 
sense and ends better.”— Sun, Baltimore. 

“ A brilliant gift for characterization and dramatic effect put his novels among 
the best of the season for entertainment, and, to no small extent, for instruction.” 

—Dial, Chicago. 

“ Mr. Merriman can write a good story ; he proved that in ' The Sowers,’ and he 
shows it anew in this. . . . The story is a strong one and told with freshness and 

simple realism.”— Current Literature, New York. 

“ His story is remarkably well told.”— Herald, Columbia, Mo. 

“ It is a novel written with a purpose, yet it is entirely free from preaching or 
moralizing. The young man, Harry Wylam, whose career from childhood to the 
prime of manhood is described, is a bright, daring, and lovable character, who starts 
with every promise of a successful life, but whose weakness of will, and love of 
pleasure, wreck his bright hopes midway. The author shows unusual skill in dealing 
with a subject which in less discreet hands might have been an excuse for morbidity.” 

—Boston Beacon. 

“ A story of lively and romantic incident. . . . His story is remarkably well 

told.” — New York Sun. 

“ The story is full of vigorous action . . . and interesting.” 

— Public Opinion. 


LONGMANS, GREEN, & 00., 91-93 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK. 


THE VIOLET. 

A Novel. 

By JULIA MAGRUDER, 

AUTHOR OF “PRINCESS SONIA,” ETC. 

With 1 t Illustrations by Charles Dana Gibson. Crown 8vo, 
Cloth, Ornamental, Gilt Top, $ 1 .25. 


“Julia Magruder has made a very pretty story of ‘ The Violet ’—a story with just 
those touches of graceful sentiment that are sure to gratify the girl reader. ... It 
is a pleasure to come upon a romance so pure in motive, so refined in sentiment, and 
so delicate in manner . . . and the book has an added charm in the illustrations 
by Charles Dana Gibson, who seems to have caught the spirit of the text to a nicety, 
and to have interpreted it with an admirably sympathetic technique.” 

— Beacon, Boston. 

“Julia Magruder has given her readers a charming story in ‘ The Violet ’ — one as 
sweet and simple and lovely as the modest flower itself. . . . It is a beautiful 
character study, breathing forth the fragrance of womanly sweetness in every phrase. 
The illustrations by Gibson are apt, and the binding and make-up of the book appro- 
priately attractive.” — Times, Boston. 

“Is a good, wholesome love story. The plot is natural and the characters real. 
. . . ‘ The Violet ’ is a study which the reader may wish could have been pro- 
longed.”— Eagle, Brooklyn. 

“A story altogether as beautiful and inspiring as its name . . . one of the 
most charming books of the season, as it is an old fashioned story with a delicious bit 
of mystery interwoven with the romance of a young heroine who, though poor, pos- 
sesses every grace and accomplishment.” — Courier, Boston. 

“ It is a pure, sweet story, with a fragrance as of violets clinging to it, and it de- 
lightfully sets forth the attributes of true manhood and true womanhood.” 

—Home Journal, N. Y. 


DOREEN. 

The Story of a Singer. 

By EDNA LYALL, 

AUTHOR OF “ WE TWO,” “DONOVAN,” “THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A SLANDER,” “ IN 

THE GOLDEN DAYS,” ETC., ETC. 


Crown 8vo, Buckram Cloth, Ornamental, $ 1 .50. 


“ A plot which has original life and vigor. . . . Altogether a good novel, and 

if the author had written nothing else she could safely rest her literary reputation on 
‘ Doreen.’ ” — Public Opinion, N. Y. 

“ Edna Lyall’s . . . new story ... is one of her best. It has, naturally, 

enough of tragedy to make it intensely interesting without being sensational in any 
offensive sense. The heroine, Doreen, is a delightful character, sturdy, strong, lovable, 
womanly, and genuinely Irish. Miss Bayly is a conscientious writer, imbued with 
deep feeling, a high purpose, and her style is attractive and pure.” 

— Boston Daily Advertiser. 

“ It is a very clever story indeed, and skillfully written.” 

—New Orleans Picayune. 

“ This is perhaps one of the best of Edna Lyall’s clever stories. Doreen is a young 
Irish girl, who loves her native land, and who is a credit to her race. . . . Inter- 
woven with the story of her experience and of her love for a young Englishman is an 
intere ;ting account of the rise and progress of the Home Rule movement. Miss Lyall’s 
book is a charming tale, and will not fail to delight every one who reads it. The girl 
Doreen is a beautiful character.” — Catholic News. 


LONGMANS, GREEN, & 00., 91-93 FIFTH AYE., NEW YORK 


WAYFARING MEN. 

By ED' LYALL, 

AUTHOR OF “DONOVAN,” “ WE TWO,” “DOREEN,” ETC. 


Crown 8vo, cloth, ornamental, $1.50. 



“ . . . We take up Edna Lyall’s last novel . . . with high expectations, and 

we are not disappointed. Miss Bayly has acquired a wonderful insight into human nature, 
and this last production of her pen is full of the true portrayals of life. . . . The whole 

book is a whiff of ‘ caller air ’ in these days of degenerate fiction.” 

—Commercial Advertiser, New York. 

“ One of her best stories. It has all the qualities which have won her popularity in the 
past.” — Sentinel, Milwaukee. 

“A well- written and vigorous story. ” — Observer, New York. 

“It is a strong story, thoroughly well constructed, . . . with the characters very 

skilfully handled. . . . Altogether the story is far above the ordinary, and bids fair to 

be one of the most successful of the opening season.” — Commercial, Buffalo. 

“ Edna Lyall . . . has added another excellent volume to the number of her ro- 
mances. . . .It sustains the reputation of the author for vigorous writing and graceful 

depicting of life, both in the peasant’s cabin and the noble’s hall.’’ 

— Observer, Utica, New York. 

“ Miss Lyall’s novel is one of unflagging interest, written in that clear, virile style, with 
its gentle humor and dramatic effectiveness, that readers well know and appreciate. . . . 

On many pages of the story the writer reveals her sympathetic admiration for Ireland and 
the Irish. ‘Wayfaring Men ’ is a literary tonic to be warmly welcomed and cheerfully com- 
mended as an antidote to much of the unhealthy, morbid, and enervating fiction of the day.” 

— Press, Philadelphia. 

“ The author has made a pretty and interesting love-story, ... a truthful picture of 
modern stage life, and a thoroughly human story that holds the interest to the end.” 

— Tribune, Chicago. 

“ It is a story that you will enjoy, because it does not start out to reform the world in less 
than five hundred pages, only to wind up by being suppressed by the government. It is a 
bright story of modern life, and it will be enjoyed by those who delighted in * Donovan,’ 
‘ We Two,’ and other books by this author.” — Cincinnati Tribune. 

“A new book by Edna Lyall is sure of a hearty welcome. ‘Wayfaring Men’ will not 
disappoint any of her admirers. It has many of the characteristics of her earlier and still 
popular books. It is a story of theatrical life, with which the author shows an unusuall}’ 
extensive and sympathetic acquaintance.” — New Orleans Picayune. 

“ Characterized by the same charming simplicity of style and realism that won for 
‘Donovan’ and ‘ Knight Errant’ their popularity. . . . Miss Lyall has made no attempt 

to create dramatic situations, though it is so largely a tale of stage life, but has dealt with 
the trials and struggles of an actor’s career with an insight and delicacy that are truly pleas- 
ing.” — The Argonaut, San Francisco. 

“ Is a straightforward, interesting story, in which people and things theatrical have 
much to do. The hero is an actor, young and good, and the heroine— as Miss Lyall’s hero- 
ines are sure to be— is a real woman, winning and lovable. There is enough excitement in 
the book to please romance-lovers, and there are no problems to vex the souls of those who 
love a story for the story’s sake. It will not disappoint the large number of persons who 
have learned to look forward with impatient expectation to the publication of Miss Lyall’s 
‘ next novel.’ ‘ Wayfaring Men ’ is sure of a wide and a satisfied reading.” 

— Womankind, Springfield, Ohio. 


LONGMANS, GREEN, & 00., 91-93 PIFTH AVE,, NEW YORK. 























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